


Dream as if You'll Live Forever

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inside jokes, M/M, No Angst, Salt, Second Time, You get the idea, everyone actually talks about their feelings, well almost no angst - the boys still get a little weird about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has just sacrificed the last of his reclaimed grace to cure Dean of the Mark of Cain. He held on to the last wisps for as long as he could, but the first time he succumbs to sleep as a human again, he's in the back seat of the Impala while Dean's driving  at highway speeds. A strange dream sets off a series of near catastrophic events, from almost-car-crashes to Dean feeling responsible for Cas being human enough to have a nightmare in the first place. What starts off as an apology ends up somewhere neither of them would've hoped for in their wildest dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream as if You'll Live Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the other Bunker Love Fest writers for encouraging me to keep writing. <3 you all.  
> Also, thanks to Ashley, aka apocalypticgal.tumblr.com, for assuring me that this wasn't too awful to post.

It all started the night before the last of his grace burned out. He woke with a scream, sweaty and trembling in the back seat of the Impala, and Dean nearly steered her into a ditch.

Sam had nodded off in the front seat, but the combined yelling and swerving and swearing and jamming on the brakes had startled him into simultaneously whacking his temple against the window, his knee against the dashboard, and his left fist (rather unfortunately) into Dean's shoulder as he valiantly fought to correct the car's unintentionally ditch-bound trajectory.

"Hands to yourself, Sammy! Dammit!" Dean yelped, swatting his brother’s flailing arm out of his way as he pulled his poor traumatized Baby off the road to evaluate whatever threat had derailed his quiet late-night drive. He glared over at Sam. "I get complete silence out of you for almost an hour, you both get a decent little nap in, and what do I get? Punched in the damn neck. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Sam rubbed the sore spot on his own temple, which was red enough that Dean knew he'd have a nice purple bruise just over his eyebrow within a few hours. It took a little of the sting out of his own injury. He’d probably have a bruise of his own, but at least it wouldn't feature prominently in the middle of his face. Unlike Sam's.

"Dude, what's going on? One second I'm watching pig races at a county fair with Neil Gaiman and Thurgood Marshall, the next I'm being shaken like a bad martini." Sam glared right back at his brother.

"What, you're saying it's my fault you punched me?"

Sam huffed an indignant snort. "What are you talking about? I was asleep until you nearly crashed the car. I didn't ask for a wakeup call by near death experience."

"No shit. I didn't ask for you to attack me, either, but that didn't stop you."

Their squabble was broken up by a muffled groan from the back seat, and a hand reaching up and grasping on to Sam's headrest. If he hadn't turned to investigate the sound, the hand would've been firmly clasped into his hair.

"Ow," Cas groaned as he wrestled himself out from where he'd wedged halfway under the front seat. "Why are we stopped? And why am I on the floor?"

Dean felt something shoved into his lower back through the seat, and turned a scowl on Cas. "Dude, you started screaming bloody murder."

"I did?" Cas's irritated confusion faded quickly into embarrassment when he remembered the dream. He finally got his right foot unstuck by pulling it out of his shoe entirely, and played for time, hoping the flush he could feel burning across his cheeks wasn't visible in the dark. Just in case, he ducked his head to untie the laces, and fidgeted to replace it on his foot in the cramped confines. "Oh. I, uh, fell asleep, I believe."

When he looked up at Dean, he expected to be teased, or at least for him to grin and make some dismissive comment about nightmares. He'd seen some of Dean's dreams firsthand, and his friend's response to all but the very worst of them was to dismiss them, repress them, and move on. He wasn't expecting concern.

It was Sam who broke the silence. "Nightmare, then?"

Cas glanced over to see Dean still trying to bore holes into his head with his eyes, as if he could see the bad dream for himself if he furrowed his brow just right. It made Cas all the more nervous, so he dragged his gaze back to Sam. "I... I suppose it must've been."

Sam glanced back and forth between Cas's attempt at earnest apology and his brother's attempt at x-ray vision, and smiled at both of them. He couldn't help Dean, so he turned to focus on Cas for now.  "You probably just need to get used to sleeping again, and the dreams will settle down."

"I'm sure you're right, Sam. Thank you." Cas settled back into the corner of the seat, trying to blend into the shadows. Dean tracked his every movement, though.

"So are we headed home now, or what?" Sam asked, snapping Dean out of his study with a backhand to his freshly bruised shoulder.

"You haven't wailed on me enough tonight, Sammy?" Dean grumbled, rubbing away the ache. He finally settled back behind the wheel and pulled the Impala onto the highway. "We'll be home in less than an hour. Can we all agree to stay awake until then? I'd appreciate getting to sleep in my own bed tonight over ending up in a hospital. Or a morgue."

Cas and Sam let him ramble on for most of the rest of the drive. He did have a point. It would suck to die in a car crash weeks after finally conquering the mark of Cain, and Cas burning through most of the rest of his grace in the process of healing him. He hadn't even become fully human yet, hoarding the last wisps of grace _just in case Dean needs it, just in case the mark comes back, just in case._

No matter how hard he'd clung to it, how he'd tried to stash it away for just in case, he couldn't deny it'd slipped away to nearly nothing. A few hours earlier he'd tried to heal Sam's wrist from a minor strain. Sam still held it gingerly and kept rubbing and flexing his fingers afterward. Cas concluded he was, for all intents and purposes, purely human now. He was pretty sure he couldn't heal a hangnail.

He'd been living human for nearly a month; eating, showering, and changing his clothes to conserve his dwindling grace. Sleeping was new, though. He'd resisted as long as he could so he could keep a constant vigil over Dean. For the first few days, he spent most of his remaining grace scanning his friend's soul, searching for the slightest sign of relapse. Or just basking in the glow of his favorite human while he still could. When they pulled back into the garage of the Bunker just after midnight, he almost wished he could give back those last precious hours of contemplation of his Righteous Man's soul in exchange for Dean just letting him scurry off to his room in peace.

"See you guys tomorrow," Sam said as he hurriedly retrieved his duffel from the trunk and loped off toward his room.

Dean called a half-hearted, "Yeah, Sammy," over his shoulder, but stood by the Impala, staring through the back window at Cas, who hadn't budged an inch.

When Sam's footsteps faded into the distance, Dean reached out and opened the back door. Cas could only see him from his knees up to about mid-torso, but he could imagine the pained, put-upon look that must've been contorting Dean’s usually lovely face. And he knew he was responsible for putting it there. He was responsible for the most recent threat to Baby, and he readied himself for the inevitable lecture on acceptable behavior while Dean was driving. Nobody put Baby in a corner, and his untimely outburst nearly had Baby up on blocks.

Dean hesitated for a second or two before dropping heavily onto the back seat next to Cas. He stared straight ahead for another half minute, then gently pulled the door shut, stopping before it latched and sealed them in together, but enough to contain their voices from echoing out through the cavernous garage.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas started, trying to head off Dean's lecture before it could begin. "I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to cause you to lose control of your car. I..."

"Cas," Dean cut him off, turning sideways, a more relaxed version of Cas's posture, still half curled up in the far corner. "Have you been having a lot of nightmares?"

 _What?_ Dean wasn't mad about the car? "But, I thought... from what you said, you were upset?"

Dean finally looked up at him and shrugged uncomfortably. "I said stuff. I was just working through the adrenaline rush. I didn't actually mean anything by it."

Cas studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "Then, no. I haven't had any nightmares. Tonight was the first time I've fallen asleep since the last time I was..." Cas waved a hand from his head down into his lap and back.

Dean shifted and rubbed his hand against the knee propped up on the seat closest to Cas. "Yeah, human. I get it. Sorry your first dream in a while had to be a screamer."

Cas huffed out a laugh. If only Dean knew what he'd actually dreamed. He shook his head. "It was very pleasant at first, from what I remember."

"If that was one of your good dreams, I'm sort of afraid to find out how you react to a full-on nightmare."

"I promise not to sleep in the car anymore, at least until we know for sure."

They were both smiling now, at least. It was comfortable, and neither of them wanted to break the silence.

"But you are doing okay, right?" Dean finally asked.

"As well as can be expected."

"Better than last time, I hope." Dean was now making a formal study of his right hand and the fabric of his jeans, and the little creases where the denim bunched up at his knee. He'd never put Cas through that again, never send him away to fend for himself without even explaining why. He'd sworn to himself and Cas that this time he'd be there for whatever Cas needed, starting with a bad dream.

"Of course, Dean." He was tempted to add that being allowed to stay at the Bunker, being essentially adopted by the Winchesters, was the primary reason he'd been adjusting so well to his new human life, but he didn't want to make Dean feel any worse about sending him away before. They'd both forgiven each other and agreed to let the past stay in the past. "I've been very happy here these last few weeks."

"Even though you haven't been sleeping until now? Does that mean the mojo's gone? You've touched down for good now?"

Cas brushed aside what he thought sounded like a hopeful note in Dean's voice. "I believe so, yes."

"So you're really okay with that, being stuck here with us?"

"If you recall, I chose this. I wanted to be here, 'stuck with you.'" He even added the little air quotes to take some of the weight off the notion of being _stuck with Dean specifically_.

Dean grinned at him, as Cas expected he would, and then sighed, transferring his fidgety right hand up to his hair. "That's good, I guess. I just want you to be happy now. I mean, you stranded yourself down here to save my life, and I owe you. So, you know, even if you're just having trouble sleeping, now that you're actually sleeping, you know, you can come to me. For anything, man." And again, Dean's focus and his hand returned to his knee.

"I appreciate that, Dean, but I really am fine." To reassure his friend, Cas reached over and patted Dean's hand. He was sorely tempted to just grab hold of it and squeeze Dean's warm fingers, but he was afraid he wouldn't want to let go, so he slowly withdrew his hand and settled back into his corner.

"Right. So I guess we should probably go try to get some shuteye in a real bed, huh?"

Cas swallowed hard. Of course Dean meant they'd each head to their own respective beds in their own respective bedrooms. He'd said _we_ , though, and it dredged up a warm feeling too close to the best moment in the dream he hadn't been able to banish from the forefront of his mind. He just nodded, and twisted around to open the door he'd been leaning against.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was nearly to the garage door before he heard the Impala's trunk slam shut and Dean calling out to him. "Hold up, Cas. You forgot your bag."

"Oh! I must really be tired, then." He rubbed both hands over his face, hoping the other man would credit the gesture for the pinkness of his cheeks, and waited for Dean to catch up and hand over his duffel. "Thank you Dean, for everything."

"Yeah, sure. Anytime. Remember that," he said, pointing a finger at Cas, "especially if you have another nightmare. I know you used to work your mojo on me when I had 'em. I can't do that for you, but I can sit up and talk, or watch movies, or just... whatever you need. Right?"

"I promise."

Dean studied him for a second, trying to uncover any hint of a lie. When he was satisfied, he patted Cas on the shoulder, then turned and walked off toward his room.

 

Six hours and two incredibly unsettling dreams later, Cas sat at the kitchen table nursing his second cup of coffee while absently studying the pattern of the wood grain on the section of table between his elbows. When he'd first moved into the Bunker, operating the coffee maker was at the top of the list of things he'd wanted to learn, and he congratulated himself on that course of action between sips. Sleep was proving just as elusive and unfulfilling as it had been the last time he was human, but for vastly different reasons.

There were no dreams of abandonment. He wasn't waking up in cold sweats, terrified that he'd be attacked, or kicked out, or worse. In his new home he even had a room of his own, with a door that locked, and his very own memory foam mattress. Dean insisted it would remember him, but he hadn't really spent all that much time with it yet. Maybe it had more of a long-term sort of memory.

Despite feeling safer in the Bunker than he ever did out on his own, it didn't translate into a comfortable night's rest. He'd had the same vivid dream three times now, and it woke him with an unpleasant start each time. Tossing and turning in bed didn't help him settle, but it gave him plenty of time to sort through what he recalled of his unconscious drama.

By the time he decided to give up on sleep for the time being and make some coffee, he'd replayed the dream at least nine times. He still didn't feel any better about it.

It started off so well, too. At the beginning, he sat at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee while Sam sat across from him working on his computer and Dean stood at the counter making breakfast. It was an exact memory of the morning Sam found their latest hunt, with one slight yet relatively horrifying twist. Instead of enjoying breakfast while discussing the case, cleaning up, then adjourning to their rooms to pack before leaving, the dream took a very sharp turn as Sam packed up his computer. Dean set the washcloth over the edge of the sink to dry, and Cas walked right up to him. He looked Dean straight in the eye, professed his undying love, then grabbed on to him like the face hugging alien from the movie Dean was watching in their motel room a few nights back. Cas clung on for dear life and kissed him senseless, while Dean frantically tried to fight him off-- much like the victim of one of the aforementioned face hugging aliens. Anyone would've woken up screaming after that.

The first time it happened, when he'd awoken half-stuffed under the Impala's front seat, he'd tried to write it off as his mind's particularly twisted memory of the movie. It had been rather frightening to watch first-hand, despite already knowing the plot of the film courtesy of Metatron’s pop culture download. While he'd seen some things in his long life that were so inexplicably awful that even trying to describe them would reduce a human's mind to goo, his newly human mind could also find these imaginary aliens just as disturbing. Of course his unsettled reaction to the dream couldn't be more than that. He would never violate Dean's personal space like that, much as he might secretly wish such a violation would be welcomed.

The second time, he tried to dismiss it as his imagination running away with him again, perhaps seeking a different resolution when he was stationary in bed rather than being flung about the back seat at highway speeds. The few gentle touches he'd shared with Dean before retiring to their rooms didn't seem to help much, either. A pat on the shoulder is one thing, but even that small contact seemed to fuel the itchy craving for _more,_ rather than satisfy his newly human need for touch. He should've known better.

By the time he rationalized it all away as a combined product of his humanity, his natural affection for Dean, and the overactive imagination of Ridley Scott, he'd dozed off again. The third time was harder to brush off. If anything, the dream had only grown more intense, and more vivid.

He laid in bed thinking about it until he decided that _thinking about it_ was just going to make the problem worse. The best course of action was to banish every trace of it from his mind, rather than dwell on it. Reinforcing the uncomfortable memory would only make it awkward to be in the same room with Dean, and he definitely didn't want that.

Coffee, he learned, only made him more jittery. It did nothing to stop him from replaying the scene again and again, even with his back turned to the place by the sink where the whole mortifying scene played out. He was just about to dump the rest of his drink and try to find respite in the first book he came across in the library when Dean strolled into the kitchen wearing his favorite robe and slippers.

"Morning, Cas. Sleep well? Or at least better than last night?"

Dean turned away to pour himself a cup of coffee. He hadn't spared more than a glance at Cas yet, so he missed the slight tensing in his shoulders.

Cas forced himself to relax. Nothing had changed in reality. It was just a dream. He didn't need to worry about actually mauling his friend with his unrequited feelings in their kitchen. Everything was still the same as it had always been.

He waited to reply until Dean sat in the chair opposite his own. "Yes, thank you. It was less traumatic to wake up in bed."

"Heh. Yeah." Dean sipped his coffee and watched Cas do the same. He looked almost as tired as Cas felt.

"Did you not sleep well?" Cas asked. "I hope I didn't inspire you to have your own bad dreams about crashing your car."

"What?" Dean shook himself, and took another gulp of his cooling coffee. "No. No, that's not... No. I'm fine, really. It's just been a long week, with the hunt and all."

"Okay," Cas replied skeptically. "But you should know, the same offer goes for you."

"What offer?"

"The one you made last night. About sleep difficulties. I no longer have the power to stop your bad dreams, but I am still here, if you feel it would be helpful to talk about them."

Dean looked stunned for a moment before trying to laugh off the sentiment. "Yeah, I don't know that talking would help at this point. But thanks."

Cas shrugged. "Whatever you need, as you said. I gave my grace for you to have a chance at peace. Your happiness is worth more than a few sleepless nights to me."

It was just a fact, an essential aspect of his being. He literally gave everything he was for Dean, so he didn't fully comprehend Dean's embarrassed reaction.

"You... you can't just say stuff like that, man." Dean's shoulders hunched up and he stared relentlessly down into his empty mug.

"Why not? It's the truth." Cas stood to rinse his mug, but leaned across the table to rest his hand against Dean's shoulder first. When Dean looked up and their eyes met, he added, "Anything. I mean it, Dean."

Cas held his gaze until Dean acceded. He let his hand fall away slowly, savoring the touch he was allowed for as long as he could get away with it.

Dean cleared his throat as Cas washed out his mug and set it to dry. "So, uh, do you have any plans for today?"

Cas hummed, absently drying his hands and dropping the cloth on the counter. "Nothing set in stone. I planned to resume annotating the more egregiously outdated books in the library. Sam offered to help if I needed it. Did you have something in mind?"

"Not really." Dean shrugged. "I just thought if there was anything you wanted to do, now that you're all human, and we don't have another hunt lined up yet, I'd, you know, leave it up to you."

"I hadn't thought about it like that," Cas replied, crossing back to the table and leaning against it. "What uniquely human experiences would you suggest?"

Dean froze. Deer in the headlights, not even breathing, full-stop froze.

"Uh. You know, I hadn't really thought about it much, either." He coughed once, then stood bolt-upright and walked quickly around Cas and over to the sink.

"Are you sure you're feeling well, Dean? Maybe you should rest today. We can discover new things to try tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere."

Cas meant it to be reassuring, but his little joke seemed to cause Dean even more distress.

Dean tightened the sash on his robe and turned toward the door. "You know what? Let me get dressed, and we can find something fun to do. I'll be back soon. Maybe google something up for us. See if those research skills you've been learning come in handy for something other than chasing monsters. I'll go..." He waved his hand vaguely toward the hall before zipping out of the kitchen in a flurry of old grey cloth.

 

Cas was already dressed appropriately for going out-- in one of Dean's old flannel shirts, a pair of jeans, and his new comfortable boots-- so he headed straight for the library. He opened the laptop Dean had left charging there before their last case. The newspaper article that led them to their last hunt was still on the screen. It was strangely satisfying to close the window, and it gave Cas a sense of accomplishment that they'd saved lives and removed a dangerous spirit.

He sat down at the table, wondering how best to adapt his new googling skills to discover something relaxing and fun to do. After a moment's consideration, he entered _Lebanon Kansas Fun_ into the search bar. He figured it would be easiest to start close to home. It was a pleasant surprise when google returned more than half a million results. Lebanon did not seem large enough to him to contain half a million fun things.

After twenty minutes of sorting out what he and Dean might consider fun from things like classified ads and fake but dubiously humorous encyclopedia entries, he'd narrowed down the list to three items. He'd leave the final choice up to Dean.

"I found several nearby attractions," Cas said when Dean joined him a few minutes later. "I thought you'd know which would be the most enjoyable for a human. I'm not sure ex-angels have the same understanding of what is and isn't considered to be entertaining."

Fresh from the shower and dressed similarly to Cas, Dean sat down next to his friend and pulled his notepad closer to see his options.

Cas leaned over his shoulder as he read, explaining why he selected each possible destination.

"That first one, the Geographical Center Monument, one website gave it a rating of  'Major Fun.'" He used the air quotes again. "But the description says it's a tiny chapel with a flag shaped like the United States, a picnic shelter, and a stone obelisk, so I suspect there was sarcasm implied in the rating."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, man, the giant ball of twine sounds more fun than that one."

"Hmmm, I left the twine ball off the list because you've already seen it twice. I don't need to have fun at the cost of your own boredom."

Dean laughed outright at that. "Nah. The twine's not really worth a special trip, either."

Feeling a little discouraged, Cas moved on to the next item on his list. "That restaurant had the best reviews of any dining establishment in a thirty mile radius of Lebanon. Their burgers got five stars from something called a yelper, but now that you pointed out how misleading online reviews can be, I don't know if it's worth the drive."

"We'll hold that one in reserve for now," Dean turned and grinned at Cas, heartily patting his friend's knee with his free hand.

Again, Cas had to resist the urge to grab Dean's hand and press it against his leg. Rather than calming the need, every touch just intensified and reinforced it. It felt too good, Dean's hand warm and heavy against his knee. He fought off the inevitable flashback to his dream by focusing on the unbearable mortification he felt upon awakening from it.

Cas cleared his throat and moved on to the final item. "It's probably too far to drive for a day trip, but it does sound like our kind of fun," Cas prefaced, while Dean read the final entry.

"The Kansas Underground Salt Museum? Really?"

"Of course," Cas replied, actually excited to explain his reasoning. "First of all, we know for sure there won't be any demons or vengeful spirits there. It is a salt mine, after all."

Dean laughed. "I can't argue with that."

Cas kept going, taking advantage of Dean's lighter mood. "There's an underground train ride through the salt tunnels, and a gallery formed from the Permian Sea. You could see things I haven't seen in more than 250 million years, Dean."

Dean froze again. It was all too easy to forget Cas hadn't always been human, until he said something like that. Cas didn't notice his friend's shock and continued right on in his excitement.

"They also have a creature named Harry the Halophile on display; a 250 million year old bacterium." Cas snorted. "The museum's website claims he is the oldest living organism on Earth, which could technically be true, since I spent most of my existence as a noncorporeal wavelength of intent, but I still feel like it would be amusing to stand next to Harry when no one else in the museum would understand what was so funny. You and I could laugh about it together. That's what is known as an 'inside joke,' right Dean? We could share an inside joke with Harry the Halophile."

Cas's enthusiasm to stand next to the oldest known thing on Earth so he could laugh at how young it still was compared with him did nothing to relieve the weight of awe pressing down on Dean. He couldn't ignore his friend's unbridled excitement, though, and forced himself to respond. This was clearly something Cas would find fun, no matter how earth-tiltingly _weird_ Dean might feel about it.

He forced a smile, cleared his throat, and looked through the website. "Yeah, man, this really does look awesome. The no-demon thing would've sold me on it, but I get it. We should go."

"Really, Dean? It's probably too late to go today, and it's nearly a three hour drive, but I would like to visit next time we're in that area on a hunt."

Dean made an executive decision. He _needed_ to do this for Cas.

"Nah, man. We're going now. Find us a motel down in wherever that is, and I'll get us two tickets for the first tour tomorrow morning. We'll make a real vacation out of it."

Cas didn't want to get his hopes up prematurely. If Dean intended their trip to be just the two of them, he was more than happy about it, of course. He didn't want there to be any misunderstandings between them. As much as it pained him to ask, he felt it was only right to clarify those intentions now. He would take no chances when it came to his friendship with Dean-- or with Sam, for that matter. He had to be sure.

"Two tickets? You don't think Sam would like to come?"

Dean froze again. It was getting to be a reflex reaction to everything Cas said. His phone was already in his hand, the museum's number half typed in. He carefully entered the remaining digits before slowly sliding the phone back onto the table.

"I should probably ask him, I guess. You, uh, go ahead and find a motel anyway."

Without looking back at Cas, Dean stood up and all but fled the room, and Cas sat there wondering if he'd said something wrong.

 

 

 

Since the moment he'd opened his fully-human eyes after Cas spent most of his grace washing the Mark of Cain from his soul, Dean had been doing his best to appreciate his life to the fullest. He'd mostly stopped sweating the small things. Mostly. Every once in a while he'd have to force himself to stop feeling weird about something he truly enjoyed, and just let himself enjoy it. There was the quiche Lorraine incident that Sam tried to tease him about, but no man should be made to feel shame about liking anything with bacon in it. Everybody likes bacon. So he let most of that stuff go.

He was really _really_ trying to let go of the bigger things, but the biggest of them all was still too terrifying to face head on. There was just too much riding on it to fuck it all up now. He'd nearly lost his soul (again!) only a few weeks before. He figured he'd give himself a break for at least a month or two before he did anything as reckless as serve himself up on a platter to the person who'd essentially done the same for him.

It seemed simple when he thought about it that way. Of course Cas wouldn't reject him out of hand. He couldn't have been completely indifferent to Dean. He'd given up the source of the power that had made him who he was for billions of years, just to save Dean's miserable human ass. And then he'd remember his dorky little friend was _billions_ of years old and had borne witness to the beginning of life on Earth, watched fucking _mass extinctions_ wipe out nearly every species that had ever existed _._ He'd seen the birth of stars that disappeared from the universe long before Dean was ever born. Hell, long before _humanity_ was ever born. After all that, who the fuck was he, insignificant little Dean Winchester, to ask for anything more from his angel? He'd already taken far too much.

It was usually around that point in his internal monologue that he forced himself to stop thinking about it, or he'd end up feeling guilty and depressed for days. It's what inspired him to ask Cas what _he_ would enjoy doing for a day or two. Dean would be willing to suffer almost anything if he could just know his friend was happy, even for a little while.

The sleeping thing had been the last straw. Cas had been mostly human for weeks now, but Dean suspected he still had a little grace in reserve, just in case Dean fucked up again and needed an emergency first-aid grace treatment.

If he'd started sleeping again, then it was probably all over. There was no turning back. Cas was stuck on Earth for the rest of however the hell long he could survive as a human.  Dean's new life mission was to ensure Cas never had cause to regret his choice. _That's right, Dean, just keep the ancient wavelength of celestial intent entertained for four or five decades. No problem._

The problem was, Dean wasn't sure he could keep _himself_ entertained that long. When Cas got excited about visiting a salt mine, of all places, who was Dean to argue with him. He did have a point about it being a guaranteed demon-free zone. What could be more relaxing to a hunter than to be surrounded on all sides by miles and miles of salt? Hell, they should open an underground resort. It would be the ultimate hunter vacation destination.

Even the idea of taking off with Cas for a few days, no matter their destination, seemed like a fantastic thing to do. So of course Cas thoughtfully and considerately wanted to include Sam in their fun. Just when Dean was working up the nerve for a little foray into baring his soul.

If, you know, an opportunity presented itself. While he was alone. With Cas. Oh what the fuck was he thinking.

By the time he reached Sam's room, he'd worked himself up into feeling antsy about everything again. He glanced at his watch, wondering if it was too early to knock yet. 9:43. Not too early. It wasn’t like Sam had spent the whole night tossing and turning, wracked with guilt and concern for Cas. So he knocked.

"Yeah? Come on in."

He cracked the door, and found Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, reading a book propped up against his pillows while he tied his shoes. "Hey, Sammy. You busy?"

"I was just about to head out to the grocery store. The milk expired while we were gone, and we're out of almost everything else. Do you want me to add anything to the list?"

"Nah. I'm good with whatever. But I was talking to Cas, and I told him I'd take him to do something fun today since we don't have another hunt lined up yet."

Sam stood up, looking surprised for just a second before schooling his features back to pleasant neutral. "That sounds like a great idea, Dean. What are you guys going to do? I mean, we don't exactly live near Disneyland here. Are you taking him cow tipping or something?"

Dean glared at his brother. "No. He found this weirdo salt museum place that actually sounds kinda cool, so I told him we'd make a proper vacation out of it."

"You?" Sam laughed. "Vacation? Do you even know how those work?"

"Of course I do." If Sam didn't shut up soon, Dean would have the perfect excuse to leave him at the bunker. He didn't need this shit on top of everything else.

"So are you going today?"

"That's the thing." Dean sighed, and tried not to fidget. "Even if we left now, we'd barely make it before they closed. It's sort of a long drive. I told Cas we could drive down today, and then hit the museum first thing tomorrow. We could be back tomorrow night." Almost as an afterthought, and in a much softer voice, he added, "He sent me in here to ask if you wanted to come, too."

Sam had been busy getting himself ready to go out, collecting his wallet and phone, tucking a select few knives into his favored concealed carry spots, and snatching up his keys. At the change in his brother's voice, he knew there was more to what Dean was telling him than he let on. He'd been reaching out to open the door on his way out to the garage, but decided this was not a conversation to have on the go. He made sure there was nothing but serious understanding reflected on his face, then turned around to face his brother.

Dean had tried to school his own face, but there was a pinched look about him, and behind his eyes Sam would've sworn he could read it like the constant scroll across the bottom of the news channel. _please say no please say no please say no._ But he wouldn't let Dean off the hook that easily. He was going to make him say it out loud. Dean needed to say it, and Sam, being a good brother, was going to help him get there. Even if it killed the both of them.

"Do _you_ want me to go with you guys?"

"Well, Cas was going to order the tickets, so,"

"No, Dean," Sam cut him off. "Forget what Cas wants." At the pained look that broke through his brother's carefully pinched brow, he tried to soften the blow. But the blow still needed to land. "What do _you_ want?"

Dean just stood there for a second, reading and rereading all the possible subtext in his brother's question, before deciding they had to be on the same page. Sam knew. Of course he knew, and of course he wanted to be sure that _Dean_ knew that he knew. "Is that it? You're going to make me say it?"

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to _make_ you say anything, Dean."

Dean glared at him for a minute or two. "Fine. I'll say it."

Sam stood there and tried to look as nonjudgmental as he could. He wasn't used to Dean's new life philosophies yet, but since he'd spent so many years trying to tease his brother into doing things for himself, into accepting that he deserved a little happiness, he was willing to learn to accept them.

Dean huffed out a breath, and spoke as if each word were being pulled from him with rusty pliers. "I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't mind staying here."

Sam smiled at the phrasing. It was probably the closest he'd get to the desperate NO he could feel practically oozing from his brother. "I definitely need to take care of these errands, and restock the pantry. I was gonna start looking for a new hunt this afternoon, but I can always call you if I find anything. You and Cas both deserve a break."

The tension melted off Dean, and he couldn't contain the eager note in his voice. "So you're staying, then?"

Sam laughed, and finally turned to leave. "Yeah, I'm staying. I thought I'd pick up something for lunch on my way back. Will you guys still be here?"

"Nah, we'll probably be on the road by then. But thanks." Dean hoped his brother understood exactly what he was thanking him for. There were only so many things he could let go of at a time.

"You're welcome, Dean. Just promise me you'll have fun. Cas, too." Sam hesitated once more outside his door, and looked his brother in the eye. "And I mean that in every way your brain heard it. Got it? Promise me you'll make it work. Both of you deserve it."

He played the words over in his head, ran them through his double-entendre filter just to be sure he wasn't reading too much into his brother's advice. First entendre: _Have fun and make sure Cas has fun._ Second entendre: _Have fun and have Cas._ So Sam definitely knew, and he apparently approved.

Dean's reflexive instinct was to deny it, to play dumb, or to brush it off with a rude joke; but he'd been practicing owning up to his feelings about little things for weeks now. It was time to start admitting to the big one. He forced himself to meet Sam's gaze and nodded. "Yeah, will do."

Sam smiled. "Good."

As Sam turned and made his way down the hall, Dean yelled after him, "And promise me you won't fill the whole fridge with rabbit food. Get yourself some cake or something."

"What," Sam said, "not pie?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Sammy."

"You too, Dean. Really. Let yourself be happy for once."

Instead of fighting off Sam's parting words, he decided to accept them as the gift his brother intended them to be. Sometimes miracles do happen.

 

 

Cas spent the next half hour or so alone in the library trying to find a nice place to stay. On hunts, he knew the Winchesters tended to find the cheapest motel within a reasonable distance of where they needed to be. It was a strategy that yielded mixed results. He'd stayed in some truly questionable motel rooms over the last few years. This time he had a chance to evaluate his options in advance, and he really appreciated it.

He would leave the final decision up to Dean, of course, but this was just one more opportunity to prove how far he'd come in learning to be human. Dean usually picked a motel that was walking distance to a bar or a diner, while Sam picked places with good wifi, and where he could go out for a run without too much trouble.

Cas searched for smaller motels, nothing too flashy. Anonymous online reviews seemed less than trustworthy after his experience that morning, but they did help eliminate a few possible options. The one that backed right up to the highway and had paper thin walls got crossed off the list first. He'd grown used to the quiet of the bunker. Maybe he was getting spoiled. The notion made him smile. Now that he was human, he figured he was entitled to his preferences. Quiet was definitely preferable to spending his second night as a new human trying to sleep between a noisy truck stop and a highway off ramp.

Cas settled on a little place in town only a few miles from the museum. He copied the address into the map function on his phone, just like Sam taught him. It was still strange to rely so much on technology, but it was already proving useful, and he appreciated being able to precisely locate himself on the planet even without his mojo.

Barely a minute had passed since he plotted out their driving route when Dean returned. He seemed much lighter and happier than when he'd raced out, and it made Cas happy to see it. It must've shown on his face, because Dean smiled even wider.

"I found a place for us to stay tonight," he said, holding up the map on his phone for Dean to see. "They had the largest swimming pool on the google map. It looked nice."

"Nice is good, Cas."

Cas merely hummed in reply, and spread his fingers apart on the screen to zoom in on the little turquoise rectangle in the motel's parking lot.

Dean leaned over his shoulder to see the tiny screen, and then leaned even closer and reached across Cas to retrieve his own phone from where he’d left it on the table. His hip was almost pressed against Cas's shoulder, but he stopped just short of actually touching. Cas was tempted to shift his shoulder and close the gap, but he didn't want to push Dean away. His friend had been letting himself get closer and closer over the last few weeks. Since it was a trend he wanted to see through to its conclusion, Cas decided any interference might frighten Dean off permanently, especially in light of his recurring dream. If anything was ever going to come of it, it would have to be on Dean's terms. He'd have to be content to watch and wait.

Dean did linger for a bit inside Cas's personal space. Either one of them could write a doctoral thesis on that particular game, they'd been playing it for so long.

"Sam's got some things he needs to do around here, so it's just you and me, buddy. Are you okay with that?"

Cas couldn't see him without shifting his whole body in the chair, but he heard the little hitch in Dean's voice. "Of course. I always enjoy spending time with you, Dean." He did turn around then, and grinned up at his friend.

"That's... good. I'll, uh, call and order those tickets then. Why don't you go pack, and meet me in the garage in twenty."

 

 

Dean reserved their tickets and then headed back to his room to pack. It wasn't like packing for a hunt. He'd only need a change of clothes and his toothbrush, really, but it felt like it wasn't enough. His regular duffel felt ridiculously light without all the weapons he normally stashed between layers of clothes. It felt strange enough that he threw in an extra set of clothes, an old and comfy t-shirt to sleep in, and a couple of knives, just in case.

The weird urge to freeze and panic was creeping up on him again, but he felt it coming and put a stop to it. He stood in his doorway and sucked down a few gulps of air. He could do this. Driving was good. He could do driving. Everything else would work itself out.

Cas was waiting for him, already in the passenger seat. The duffel Dean gave him when he started wearing regular clothes was on the back seat, in Cas's usual spot in the Impala.

Dean went to the back door first to toss his own bag in next to his friend's. It bought him a few precious seconds to get his breathing under control. This was his absolute last chance to back out, and he didn't want to give himself a panic attack as an excuse to stay at the bunker.

No, he'd made up his mind. Dean wanted this. Even _Sam_ wanted him to have it. That thought settled him more than anything else. He climbed in behind the wheel before he could change his mind again.

"You ready?" He grumbled through nervously clenched teeth. He started up the car, taking just a second to glance over at Cas, who was smiling serenely back at him.

"I was born ready, Dean."

Cas delivered the line with what Dean thought of as his "smitey face," and then shifted back to his regular, standard-issue confused angel-of-the-lord so fast Dean couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Even though I wasn't technically born. I'm not sure if that reference really works for me." He kept his eyes on Dean, maybe looking for confirmation that he could make whatever reference he wanted, whether or not it was factually accurate. Of course Dean's only insight involved laughing harder. Cas narrowed his eyes and glared at him, which drove him to the brink of hysterical tears. "I don't understand why that's so funny, Dean."

"It's not," Dean assured him, wiping his eyes. "Sorry, man, it's just you." He stretched a hand out to the closest bit of Cas he could reach, which happened to be his knee, and gave him a quick reassuring pat. "I'm just glad you're here, is all."

Cas practically beamed at him. Well, for Cas, the little crinkly-eyed smile was about as beamy as he ever got. Seeing that grin as often as possible was now on the top of Dean's to do list. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad about that, too, Dean."

Dean sighed, gave Cas one last reassuring smile, and headed out toward the highway. This was _definitely_ something he could do.

 

 

For the first time in as long as Cas had known him, Dean didn't touch the radio during the entire drive. They'd spent part of it just sitting quietly together, but it never felt uncomfortable or strained. It felt easy.

He occasionally commented on something he saw along the road; a particularly uncommon bird once, a humorous bumper sticker another time. Dean would occasionally bring up a subject to discuss, and his choice of topics was as varied and random as the things Cas had spotted out his window.

They'd talked about everything from the origins of life on Earth (too heavy to discuss while Dean was driving in traffic) to what flavor of toothpaste they found the most pleasing (wintergreen) and whether or not they liked the new laundry detergent Sam picked out (too flowery). Cas reveled in the fact that he even _had_ an opinion on something as ordinary as which kind of bread was best for a ham sandwich (rye). Until he met Dean, he'd never had any reason to form an opinion at all. He was suddenly excited to form as many as he possibly could, and Dean seemed eager to help.

Dean's stomach started growling just after one o'clock. They hadn't had lunch yet, and Cas suggested they find somewhere to eat.

"We're only about twenty miles out now. Maybe there's someplace good to eat in town."

"Or we could stop there," Cas replied, pointing out yet another billboard. This one, however, was for a buffet-style restaurant that claimed to have the best dessert bar in Kansas. "It says to exit in one mile, Dean."

"I can't argue with that."

It was a little late for the lunch rush, and the restaurant was nearly deserted. Dean looked far too serious, staring out over the seemingly endless choices an all-you-can-eat buffet provided him. Cas knew just what to say, though.

"At least it's not a Biggerson's."

When Dean grinned at him, Cas felt entirely warm from head to toe. He decided on the spot that his new mission in life was making Dean smile like that. Dean picked a plate up off a huge stack, and handed it to Cas. Dean's grin softened out into something even more endearing to him, and he replied, "You know what, Cas? You wanted to share an inside joke at the salt place? Well, that's another inside joke we already have, right there."

Cas couldn't help it. He laughed. It wasn't booming laughter, or rollicking guffaws, or even the giggles. It was just a regular human laugh. Dean stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted wings again, with wide-eyed wonder.

"Is everything okay, Dean?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah. I don't think I've ever heard you laugh properly before."

"I laugh," Cas replied, a little indignant.

Dean shook his head. "Not like that. Not that I've ever seen, anyway."

Cas really thought about it for a second. He'd snorted out an amused breath, he'd even gone as far as an appreciative grunt, but Dean was right. That very well may have been his first actual laugh.

"Huh."

He refocused on Dean, who still looked stunned, and couldn't help himself any longer. He cackled, hand on his stomach and head thrown back in mirth, and outright laughed. The first thing he learned about laughter was that it made it difficult to breathe, which made him laugh harder. Dean was torn between just standing back and enjoying watching him, and trying to help him recover. It went on for less than a minute before he felt Dean's hand on his back, warm and firm and soothing. Cas took a few deep breaths and rubbed at his eyes.

"Are you done now?"

Dean sounded amused, and when his vision cleared, Cas was rewarded with his favorite sweet and endearing smile. The more he looked, the more he saw in his friend's expression. Happiness was obvious, but less so were fleeting glimpses of pride. Dean had been the only person in all of history to make him laugh. A little pride was probably justified.

"Yes, I believe I am."

He took his plate and stepped up behind Dean at the buffet, uneasy and unsure about how to decide between hundreds of potential options. It was Dean's turn to know just the right thing to say.

"You picked a really good place to stop, Cas." He watched Dean select a fried chicken leg, followed by a slice of meatloaf. "See? You can try some of everything, if you want. Find out what you like without getting stuck with a whole plate full of something you don't."

He studied the seemingly endless options, and was suddenly more intrigued than overwhelmed. "That's true, but there's no way I can taste it all. There's just too much."

Dean shrugged and moved on to the next steaming trays along the counter. "Just try whatever looks good."

Cas followed along, and took at least a little bit of everything Dean heaped onto his own plate. Toward the end he'd started feeling adventurous and picked a few things that Dean hadn't. He liked the bright green color of the steamed broccoli, and the crispy looking coating on the fried fish.

When they'd eaten their fill, and learned that Cas's tastes lined up pretty well with Dean's own (the broccoli hadn't lived up to its promise based on appearance, but the meatloaf far exceeded it), they ventured over toward the dessert table. He counted at least six varieties of pie, chocolate cake with some sort of jam squished between the layers, bowls of pudding, lemon pound cake, several varieties of muffins and cupcakes, strawberry cheesecake, cups of mixed berries, and the thing that drew Dean's attention, an ice cream sundae bar.

"C'mere Cas, you gotta try this." Dean handed him a bowl, and showed him how to work the machine. It reminded him a little uncomfortably of the Big O slush machine at the Gas 'n Sip. "You pull this lever for chocolate, and this one for vanilla, then you can put whatever else you want on top." He pointed at the selection of chopped fruit, nuts, candies, and sauces.

"You're not having pie?" It was sort of surprising, considering all the times Dean had complained about not having any decent pie via _prayer,_ of all things.

Dean glanced over at the pies, before coming to a decision. "You know what? I don't think I am."

Cas stood and watched as Dean picked out a large chocolate brownie, brought it to the ice cream machine, and smothered it with chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, and caramel sauce. He didn't even wait to get back to their table before he dug in, moaning contentedly and licking caramel off the spoon. The entire scene was borderline inappropriate, and Cas had to turn his attention to something else before he felt compelled to reenact his dream right there in the middle of the restaurant. He'd never felt envious of a spoon before, but he was starting to.

He felt rather full, but honestly, after years of hearing Dean's longing pie-related prayers, he felt obligated to at least try a slice. He picked out a small piece of cherry pie, added a restrained dollop of vanilla ice cream on top, then asked, "Does this look all right?"

Dean just nodded with his mouth full of chocolate, and led them back to their table.

It only took one bite for him to agree with Dean's assessment of pie. It was delicious.

 

 

Cas had been eating regularly for a while now, but their lunch had been the first time he seemed to really enjoy it, Dean thought as he drove the final leg of their trip. He kept sneaking glances at Cas to reassure himself that this was all really real. His lingering fears over the state of his soul were fading away, as was the guilt he felt about being the reason Cas had given up his grace. They'd both made their choices, and it was obvious Cas didn't resent him for it.

Dean had kept a close eye on him since they performed the spell that changed them both forever. He'd been worried Cas would regret becoming human for him, would mourn the loss of his grace. He was waiting for Cas to realize he hadn't been worth the sacrifice, and was convinced his friend would wake up one day and never want to see him again.

Every chance Dean had, he tested the truth of Cas’s new human feelings. Contrary to his expectations, he was relieved to learn the closer he pushed, the happier Cas seemed to be. He was beginning to suspect Cas felt the same bubbling feeling of contentment that he did when they were together.

By the time Cas guided them to their motel's parking lot by the little map on his phone, Dean could hardly stop smiling. They had nowhere to be, no victims or witnesses to interview, no research to be done. They were just there, together, to do something fun. Because they wanted to.

He parked the car and sat there for a minute gazing off toward the motel office. "So this is it, huh?"

"Yes, Dean." Cas replied as he started to open the door. "Are you going to check in, or should I?"

Dean reached over and grabbed on to his wrist before he could get out. "No, Cas. Uh, I mean, this is _it_. This is our lives now. This is everything we ever fought for. _Free will_. We wanted to do something, so we did it. We weren't coerced. No one was controlling us. No one's soul was on the line. No one threatened to burn down the universe. We had a fucking _choice_ for once, and here we are." Dean gestured around at the air with his free hand. He wasn't sure how well he was explaining himself, but he hoped Cas understood. This was _everything_ , and despite it all, they'd both survived long enough to actually enjoy it.

Cas looked up from where he'd been staring at Dean's hand still clamped around his arm, and couldn't stop his reaction to the awed joy on his friend's face. He raised his free hand, slowly, to rest his palm against Dean's cheek.

Dean saw it coming. This was it, what he'd only just realized he'd spent his entire life earning. Death, pain, torture, Hell, demons, sacrifice, loss, and hope. As Cas's fingertips landed against his jaw and slid up his cheek, he realized if he knew he'd end up here, he'd willingly go through it all again. Thank fuck he didn't have to.

His hand clenched tighter around Cas's wrist before sliding down to capture his hand and lock their fingers together. They were good. They were happy, and they _deserved_ it, dammit.

Dean sat there, staring into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, while Cas stared back, touching his face so gently, like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen. It was just this side of too much. He shuddered out a sigh, let his eyes close, and leaned in the last few inches to touch his forehead against Cas's. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to a minute, just breathing and letting the last tangles of doubt unravel in his chest.

Without opening his eyes, Dean asked, "Is it okay if...?"

He felt Cas nod, and breathe out a quiet, "Yes. Anything."

Dean leaned back just far enough to see his face clearly, raised his left hand the same way Cas had done to him, and gently cupped his cheek. His heart was racing, but he wasn't afraid. They closed the last few inches between them together.

Their lips touched for a second, and then pressed together firmly. Dean realized he'd been holding his breath and sighed, sliding his hand through Cas's hair to hold him close and deepen the kiss. Cas took it as permission to finally, _finally_ give his dream the right ending.

Their other hands were still clenched together on the seat between them, so Cas used them to pull himself as close to Dean as he could get. He dragged their joined hands behind him so he could fit himself against Dean's shoulder, chest, hip, thigh, knee. Dean responded in kind, releasing Cas's hand so he could wrap his arm properly around his back and pull him closer.

Dean slid the tip of his tongue across Cas's lower lip, kissed the corner of his mouth, and then kissed his way toward Cas's ear. Cas breathed out _Dean_ against his skin, and it felt like catching fire and falling in the ocean all at once.

They clung to each other in the front seat, pulling apart for a moment just to see the dazed glow on each other's face, before crashing back together again. Dean thought he'd never kissed anyone so thoroughly in his life.

He was in the process of memorizing the taste of Cas's tongue when they were interrupted by a hesitant knock on Dean's window. They reluctantly pulled apart, and Dean was enthralled by the pink spreading across Cas's cheeks before he buried his face against Dean's shoulder. It pained him to turn away, but it was mid-afternoon and they were making out like teenagers on prom night in the front seat of the car. Dean guessed they'd probably gotten a little carried away with themselves, so he rolled down the window to apologize to whoever they'd apparently scandalized.

"Sorry, man," he said to a kid who looked barely old enough to drive, but was wearing a yellow shirt with the motel's logo embroidered on the front pocket.

The kid cleared his throat and drew himself up straight in an effort to look authoritative, but he was blushing, and when he spoke he sounded embarrassed beyond belief. "I know this sounds like a cliché, and I mean this with the utmost respect, but, uh, you two should get a room. Uh, not to sound like a sales pitch or anything, but..." and he gestured vaguely back at the motel behind him.

Cas snorted into Dean's shoulder, which Dean acknowledged with an affectionate squeeze as he answered, "Yeah, that was sort of next on the agenda."

The kid smiled back. "Well, then, you've come to the right place." At which point all the blood flowed out of the poor kid's face and he stammered out, "I mean, you pulled in and... Well, you're here, anyway. I didn't mean to imply... anything... untoward. Oh, hell. I'll be in the office." And he strode off as fast as he could.

Dean rolled the window up before turning back to Cas and once again enfolding him in his arms. He didn't kiss him this time. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop again. He just wanted one more moment like this, wound together for the first time and knowing it wasn't even close to the last. Dean could make whatever choices he wanted now, and he'd chose _this_ every damn day.

He kissed the top of Cas's head quickly before sitting back again. "I don't want to let go, but the kid's right. We can't sit here all day, either."

Cas squirmed against him, just as reluctant to release him. "I agree. Much as I enjoy your car, this location is less than ideal." He tugged at the back of Dean's shirt, as if evaluating how best to go about removing it.

Dean suddenly felt the need to make sure there were no misunderstandings between them. He knew how he felt, and he was pretty sure he knew how Cas felt, but he had to be certain. He couldn't live with himself if he went any further and found out later that he'd read the situation wrong. He needed to know for sure.

"But this is something you want, right?" His voice felt tiny, and sounded softer than he intended it to. He was sure Cas would hear the implied _with me_. Some habits were harder to break than fessing up to Sammy about maybe liking cake as much as pie. A lifetime of believing he was only good for one thing, combined with forty years in hell having the fact he was actually completely worthless literally beaten into him, would give anyone a few self-esteem issues.

No matter how many times he'd interpreted Cas's actions and words as _I think he might like me_ _too_ , he'd never have bet on it until he had rock solid proof. Why would an actual feathered and haloed angel of the lord see him as anything other than, at best, an interesting tool who'd proved himself useful once in a while, and at worst as an infuriatingly meddling asshole who just wouldn't do what he was told. Not to mention he'd spent most of his life believing angels belonged on the bullshit list (and to this day he believed most of them still belonged on the bullshit list, the dicks). Now, with the best angel he ever met curled up in his arms, clinging to him like it was Dean's turn to do the raising-from-perdition thing this time around, he had to admit the odds were looking pretty good on that bet now.

"Of course, Dean." Cas replied with the brutal bluntness that Dean had grown to adore, despite complaining halfheartedly about it for years. "This is something I've wanted for a long time. When I gave up my grace to cure you, I was content to remain your friend. I was glad enough you asked me to stay with you and Sam. But this? This is what I wanted, and longed for. You should know, Dean, that I love you."

Dean knew, or he should say he suspected it. People don't give up armies, or heaven, or the essence of their very being, for casual acquaintances-- and Cas had done all of that for him. It was still overwhelming to hear it spelled out plainly like that. He hugged Cas back even tighter and forced himself to say what he needed to. "You too, Cas. I love you, too."

Cas's arms tightened around him for a few seconds before they both relented and pulled apart.

"We should go in now," Cas said, smoothing out Dean's rumpled shirt.

Dean reached up to comb his fingers through Cas's hair, where those same fingers had ruffled it up just minutes before. "Yeah, I guess we should." He leaned over and gave Cas a quick peck on the lips before getting out and retrieving both of their bags from the back seat.

Cas walked around and met him as he closed and locked the door. He picked up his bag, and then grabbed Dean's free hand with his own.

 

 

The clerk didn't even ask what kind of room they needed when they checked in. He did his best to smile politely as Dean signed the paperwork, handed over a key marked _Honeymoon Suite_ , and squeaked out, "Enjoy your stay." Cas grinned all the way to their door.

The room was nicer than most of the motels Cas had seen, but it was still a motel. Even the honeymoon suite's only distinguishing features on first glance were a champagne bucket sitting empty on the dresser next to the television and a vase of plastic roses on the small table by the door. After dropping his bag, he didn't have time to examine anything more closely before Dean turned and pulled him to a tight hug.

Cas brought his arms up around Dean's back and spread his fingers wide before clamping them down on handfuls of his shirt. Dean made a soft pleased noise as Cas slowly dragged his fingertips together, feeling Dean's muscles tense and relax under his touch, so he did it again.

Dean loosened his hold and let his hands play along Cas's back. His fingers moved gently at first, but it wasn't long before Cas needed to feel more. He found the hem of Dean's shirt and slid one hand underneath to press his palm to Dean's side, finally feeling the warmth of his skin after so many _almosts_.

He couldn't believe it had been less than twenty four hours since he first had the terrifying dream that set this all in motion. The touches he'd stolen in his dream hadn't been anything like this. Here in reality, Dean wasn't pushing him away, he was pulling him even closer. Maybe it was a new human need for touch, or just his need for Dean, but one hand resting on Dean's hip was suddenly not nearly enough.

He felt Dean's fingertips under his chin, lifting his face from where he'd been trying to see his hand through Dean's shirt, wanting to see the wonder he felt through his fingers for himself. But Dean was looking at him nervously, and he couldn't stand to see any reluctance from Dean anymore.

He slid his hand up Dean's side, around to his spine, and then down to meet his other hand at the small of his back, feeling every muscle, every ridge of bone, every scar that marred his skin. As he gently smoothed over every inch of Dean he could reach, he looked up into his eyes and hoped Dean could see that there was no reason to be afraid.

"Don't worry, Dean. I was overwhelmed for a moment," he said, holding Dean's gaze like he'd always done. "I don't want to stop. I just couldn't believe I'd been allowed to start. You may continue now."

Dean just stared at him for another second or two as Cas watched the concern melt away from his eyes. Cas couldn't be sure if it was due to his words or his touch, but decided it didn't matter either way. He would give Dean anything he needed, anything he wanted, and that was how Cas interpreted the changes he watched come over Dean's entire body. His shoulders relaxed and his posture softened, tension dissolving under Cas's hands.

Dean grinned, fingers still holding his jaw so he couldn't look away yet. "I may continue? You giving orders now? Because you know how I am about following orders. I sort of have a reputation for doing the opposite of what you say, so I'd be careful if I were you."

"I would never presume to give you an order, Dean. I think we've both obeyed more than our fair share of orders. You may consider it strongly worded advice, if that helps."

Dean laughed. "You're lucky that sounds like very good advice."

And he leaned in for another kiss. Cas opened to him on instinct as Dean's thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. He felt Dean's other hand at his waist, fumbling to find skin beneath the suddenly intolerable barrier of cloth that separated them.

Dean growled in frustration and tried to pull away, but Cas tightened his grip, nails digging into his shoulder blades to keep him in place. When Dean leaned his head back enough to breathe, Cas tried to follow, and made a noise like a sad puppy when his lips didn't meet Dean's again right away.

He opened his eyes to see Dean still staring back at him, but this staring was entirely new. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. The flush of his skin and pink of kiss-swollen lips made his eyes almost glow, what little green remained in them. It startled Cas for a second, and his breath hitched as he remembered Dean's eyes entirely filled with blackness, but no. This wasn't demonic bloodlust, it was purely human lust, and he suspected his own looked much the same.

He tried to dive back in, to put his mouth on any part of Dean he could reach. Dean stumbled backward a few steps to keep them both from toppling over from the surge of Cas's body against his. Cas tried to hold on, but Dean had released him. He was about to complain, when Dean's hands landed on his shoulders, brushed up the sides of his neck for a moment, and then began pushing his flannel shirt down his arms. _Yes, that is a good idea_ , he thought, and let go of Dean long enough to return the favor.

Again, they were caught in each other's eyes as their hands worked with new purpose. _Just another minute_ Cas reminded himself as he itched to have Dean's skin under his hands again. Flannel gone, Dean reached down to pull his own t-shirt off before tugging Cas's up and over his head and flinging it out of their way. He couldn't resist the pull of so much skin, and once more threw himself bodily at Dean.

This time, his hands landed on Dean's shoulders and were met with an unexpected texture. Under his right hand, he felt a scar he thought he'd healed years ago. His breath caught, and he turned Dean's shoulder toward him to examine it, sliding his hand into place against the perfect handprint seared once again into Dean's skin. His eyes flashed up to meet Dean's. A thousand questions he was sure he should be asking raced through his mind, but he couldn't pick where to start.

Dean shrugged and looked a little abashed. "Yeah, I probably should've said something sooner. It, uh, was there when I woke up."

Cas tilted his head and struggled to keep from staring at the mark he'd left on Dean's skin when he'd claimed his soul from Hell. "It returned when I cured you?"

"You mean when you ran all your grace through me like some sort of angelic electric chair? Yeah. I figured that's what brought it back."

"Does Sam know about this?" Cas asked, fingers brushing gently against the print.

Dean shook his head. "Not yet. I sort of wanted you to see it first, you know? Since it's yours."

Cas nodded. "It was always there, on your soul. I think it's what helped you fight off Cain's mark as long as you did. My claim was there first." He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to his mark burned forever into Dean's skin.

Dean shivered and pulled Cas against him. Cas's fingers explored the hollows above his collarbones, then slowly slid lower as Dean finally relented and kissed him again. Dean's hands duplicated the path he traced, sliding along his own body, touch for touch. Every gesture Cas gave was returned to him. He'd become distracted by the flood of sensations, the feel of his hands and mouth on Dean, and Dean's on him, and was startled into a gasp when Dean's fingertip brushed against his nipple.

Dean groaned at his reaction, and ducked his head down to nip and lick his way down Cas's neck. Cas shuddered as Dean's teeth grazed lightly against his throat, and tilted his head to encourage him to continue. He kissed along the ridge of Dean's shoulder, biting down reflexively when Dean found a particularly sensitive spot beneath his ear with his tongue.

They'd worked their arms back around each other and Dean slowly guided them toward the bed, stumbling a little as he tried to toe off his boots without untangling themselves from each other. Cas's legs hit the edge of the bed and he let Dean push him gently down onto the mattress, kicking off his own shoes as he pulled Dean down with him.

Dean crawled carefully up his body, pulling Cas all the way on to the bed. Cas lay back, hands wandering up and down Dean's chest and back, memorizing the texture and warmth of his skin. He drank up the details of the body straddled above him on hands and knees, as Dean studied him with the same careful attention, shuddering and sighing at every touch of his hands.

"Beautiful."

He hadn't realized he'd actually said it out loud, but he wasn't as surprised by it as Dean was. Dean's blissfully half-lidded eyes opened wide, and then he crashed down against Cas, as if that one word had cut the strings holding him up.

He let out a breathy moaning sound at the sudden flood of _warmsmoothroughheavyaaah_ as Dean shifted against him, burrowing down against the side of Cas's neck, murmuring his name into his skin. His hands slid lower down Dean's back until his fingertips grazed over the edge of his jeans. He grumbled out a frustrated noise at the obstacle, and pressed deeper against the more pliant flesh to slip his fingers beneath the waistband and continue his exploration.

At the sudden new pressure, Dean's hips rocked down into Cas's, and they both moaned in relief at the small bit of friction and heavy weight rubbed against their growing erections. Dean stopped moving above him, and Cas sought to repeat the experience as he felt himself hardening. Dean reached down to still his hips with one hand as he raised himself up on an elbow above him.

His efforts to grind up into Dean were met with a tightening of the hand on his hip, and he opened his eyes to see Dean struggling to slow his breathing. He thought once again that maybe Dean _didn't_ want this, didn't want _him_ like this.

"Why," he gasped out, and steadied his own breath before asking, "Is something wrong?"

Dean shook his head slowly. Cas could still read the longing in his eyes, but he could also see the effort Dean made to be serious for a moment. "Last chance to get off this train, Cas."

Cas tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at Dean's ridiculous suggestion. "Why would I want to do that?"

Dean smiled and finally released Cas's hip. He slid his hand up over his shoulder and neck to cup his cheek, thumb sweeping slowly back and forth below his bottom lip. In a soft and steady voice, he said, "Because this is serious. I am serious about this. If we go any farther, there's a good chance I won't ever be able to go back. Do you understand?"

Dean's thumb continued its path across his lip, but Cas had seen something shift behind his eyes, as if a wall had cracked and whatever was on the other side was desperate to break through. They could stop, and Dean could mend the crack, and they could go on like they'd always done. Or they could knock that wall down forever, and there'd be no rebuilding it. Cas nodded.

"Because, man, this is gonna sound dumb, but I feel like I've been practicing for this for weeks now. Lettin' myself have stuff I wanted without talkin' myself out of it, you know? But this? You? You're the final exam."

Cas thought he understood. He'd watched Dean slowly let himself relax into things he'd never allowed himself enjoy before. This, though, was entirely different to having something unusual for dinner, or listening to a different type of music, or watching something different on television. None of those things could get up and walk away. Cas could. And he had, so many times. Dean loved him anyway.

"I told you that I love you, Dean. I am _in love_ with you. There is nowhere else I want to be other than with you. And I don't mean just right this minute. I mean forever." He moved his right hand to Dean's shoulder to cover his handprint. "I may not have understood at first, and I fought against it for years. Angels are not supposed to want. But from the moment I reached for your soul, I was yours. I will never leave you again, Dean. I don't think I even could if you asked me to."

Dean's thumb finally stilled, and his voice trembled. "Never. I wouldn't. Never again. That was one of the stupidest things I've ever done, and that's saying something, considering I'm the guy who accidentally started the Apocalypse." Cas scoffed, but Dean kept talking. "But I need you so much, and if you ever leave me again, I don't think I'd survive it. So I had to know."

Cas felt his heart race and watched the last of the wall Dean built to protect himself crumble away to dust, right along with his self-control. "Now that you know, would you consider removing your pants?"

Dean laughed, his entire face lighting up from within. "Yeah, I guess we can do that."

Dean leaned in and kissed Cas's cheek before quickly pulling upright, sitting back on his heels, still straddling one of Cas's thighs. Without taking his eyes off Cas, he unbuckled his belt, and then set to work on Cas's. He unbuttoned his pants, and Cas lifted his hips when Dean's fingers curled into the waistband to slide them off. Dean slowly backed off the foot of the bed, dragging Cas's jeans with him, pulling off his socks as he went, and dropping them on the floor, to be joined by his own a few seconds later.

He stood at the end of the bed admiring Cas's body stretched out before him like an offering, a strange choked sound of pure need escaping from his throat. Cas took advantage of Dean's reverie to slip off his boxers and kick them over the edge of the bed. He lay there naked, his arousal undeniable, leaving no room for Dean to doubt just how much he wanted this.

In one quick motion, Dean tugged off his own boxers, and dove back on to the bed. He knelt between Cas's knees, slowly running his hands up his legs, over his hips and stomach. Cas whined his disappointment as Dean deliberately avoided his now painfully hard cock until he was almost back where they had started, Dean above him on hands and knees. But this time there was nothing keeping them apart. Cas reached up, cupped a hand around the back of Dean's neck, and pulled him down.

Dean's lips found his again, and this time when Cas lifted his hips in search of friction, Dean just kissed him harder and ground back against him, pressing him into the mattress and sliding his dick alongside Cas's, finally giving them both some relief. His legs wrapped around Dean, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, trapping Dean against him.

It didn't even matter what happened next, Cas thought, because he didn't want this to stop. He held on to Dean with his entire body, fingers twisting through his hair, sliding down over his shoulders, clawing at his back, as Dean thrust against him again and again. Almost too soon, he felt a heat building low in his stomach, and he knew it couldn't last much longer.

"Dean, I'm...I can't..." He didn't know if he was warning Dean or begging for something more. It didn't matter, because Dean reached down between them and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks. He swiped his thumb through the precome dripping from them both and slicked it down their lengths, before squeezing them firmly together.

"It's all good, Cas. I got you."

Cas was practically frantic from overstimulation, every sense on the verge of meltdown, his skin about to combust. It was all he could do to hold on and watch Dean fall apart above him, as they gazed almost blindly into each other's eyes.

Dean let him set the rhythm and matched his thrusts, pumping them together toward completion. With his last coherent thought, Cas reached up and fit his hand over the scar on Dean's shoulder. Dean tensed above him, shouted out his name, and spilled over the edge.

Cas had mere seconds to enjoy the blissful vision of Dean unraveling, to feel the hot splash of come against his stomach, before he too succumbed and the world whited out beneath waves of ecstasy.

 

 

Dean had fallen against Cas's chest, and he let himself admit that they were cuddling, his nose buried beneath Cas's ear, their arms and legs entwined. The stickiness between their stomachs could wait. There were more important things to think about first.

He'd held on as long as he could, watching Cas come through his own orgasm. He didn't want to let his eyes close. He'd imagined it too many times over the years to let himself miss it, and now he wanted to lie there for a second and permanently embed the image in his brain.

He rested with his eyes closed, breathing in Cas's scent, absently running his hand along his arm, when Cas spoke, his voice even more gravelly than usual. "Dean."

Dean grinned against his neck and whispered, "Hey, Cas."

"That was... pleasant." Cas's arms tightened around his shoulders as he stretched out, arching his back like a cat and rubbing his cheek against the top of Dean's head.

"That's one word for it." Dean hesitated. He had no idea what to say. It was so much more than pleasant. There was only really one thing _to_ say, and he hoped it got everything he was feeling across in the quiet, reverent tone of his voice. "Love you, Cas."

"Of course I love you, Dean."

Cas's hand slid up into his hair, cradling his head against his shoulder, and Dean didn't even want to stop the little pleasured grumbling sound he made as he nuzzled closer. As he slid up an inch to place a kiss against Cas's temple, he felt the drying mess on their stomachs pulling against his skin and groaned.

He rolled off Cas, groped around on the floor, and returned with his t-shirt, suddenly grateful he'd packed extra clothes. When they were both clean, he chucked the sticky shirt off the bed and laid back down, this time against Cas's side. Cas rolled so they were face to face, and Dean couldn't help but lean in to kiss him for just a minute. Or maybe two. Or ten. Whatever.

When they broke apart to breathe, Dean snuck a glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was still too early for dinner, but too late to do practically anything else in a town they weren't familiar with. With no hunting-related business to take care of, Dean was a little at a loss, but he was tired. He'd barely slept the night before and then drove for hours. And then had what probably qualified as the most intense sexual experience of his life. Yeah, he probably deserved a nap.

"You wanna rest until dinner? I don't really feel like moving right now."

Cas laughed, a low rolling rumble that Dean felt in his chest as much as heard. "I slept terribly last night, so yes, I would enjoy that very much."

Dean stiffened. How could he be so stupid? That was the whole reason they'd ended up here, in this motel, on a fucking _vacation_ of all things. It was only last night that Cas fell asleep for the first time since losing the last of his grace, then woke up with a screaming nightmare. He probably spent half the night freaked out or having more bad dreams every time he closed his eyes. Dean knew all too intimately how nightmares worked. He felt like an ass, and was determined to make it better.

He sat up, dragging Cas with him, to pull down the covers on the bed and crawl underneath. When they were both settled back against each other, legs twined together and Cas's head pillowed on Dean's shoulder, Dean decided that for once it was time for him to watch over Cas. He buried his fingers in Cas's hair, gently massaging his head and neck.

"I'm sorry about last night, Cas. I didn't think you'd be too freaked out to get back to sleep again. You seemed okay when I went to bed, but I couldn't sleep either. I was up half the damn night worried about you having nightmares and maybe blaming me for them, or just resenting me for making you human enough to _have_ nightmares in the first place."

Cas squeezed the arm he'd draped around Dean's back, and _damn he was still so strong even without a drop of mojo in him_. It cut off Dean's air enough to shut him up for a second.

"Dean, I didn't have much trouble falling asleep last night. I had trouble staying asleep."

"So the bad dreams kept coming back? Dude, I told you to come get me if you had a nightmare again. Do you know how many decent nights of sleep I owe you?" Dean leaned back enough to be sure he had Cas's full attention. "Of course you do. You probably marked them down in my permanent record or some shit. _Dean Winchester: one hell torture nightmare erased. Replaced with pleasant dream of fishing._ My file's probably overflowing with notes. But whatever, man. I really did mean it. I owe you."

Cas nodded, but blushed, and Dean was both astounded that he could affect his usually stoic angel this way now and enthralled at the sight.

Dean held him close, fingers still working soothingly against the back of his neck. "You can sleep now, and if you have another nightmare, I'm here, right? I can't reach into your head and stop it, but at least you're not alone if you wake up."

"I can't say for sure, but I don't think that dream is going to pose a recurring problem," Cas said, already starting to drift off from the gentle massage and the sleepy warmth of their bodies pressed close together under the blankets.

"Never know. Bad dreams are like that."

Cas shook his head as far as he could without dislodging Dean's fingers. "Perhaps there will be others. I've seen and done some terrible things that will surely feature in future nightmares, but I feel safe from that particular dream now."

Dean tensed, reminded once again that he probably couldn't even imagine the scope of the shit Cas had filed away for nightmare fuel. They'd deal with the literal eons worth of bad things one at a time, as Cas dredged them up out of his memory. For right now, he'd deal with what he could wrap his head around, half hazy with sleep and still a little stunned by everything that had shaken out in the last few hours with Cas, up to and including the fact they were currently _cuddling_.

Cas went on.  "Dreams are how humans work through issues subconsciously, to process thoughts and feelings and memories so we can understand and learn from them. I had the same dream three times, and I think I've learned everything I could from it."

"Dude, I'm still working through shit that happened when I was four fucking years old. You never know when it'll hit you again. So, if you want to talk about it, or whatever."

Cas breathed out a little laugh and squirmed against Dean. "You should know it wasn't an entirely bad dream."

"No?"

"The morning Sam found our last hunt, we had breakfast. I dreamed it exactly as it happened-- up to a point."

Dean was curious now. Nothing too terrifying had happened that morning. Well, he'd accidentally dropped his toothbrush in the toilet in his hurry to pack, but that wasn't exactly the kind of thing that inspired screaming. Cursing, maybe, but not terror. "So what was the Janet Leigh impression all about then?"

"No one tried to murder me in a shower, if that's what you're implying."

"Dude, it's creepy that you get references now, but you still don't _really get_ references, you know?"

Cas sighed. "You mean the shouting. Yes, Dean. I was making a joke."

And _that_ made Dean laugh. "Oh, man. I'm sorry. I can't fucking believe it, though. It's gonna take me a while to get used to you this way."

Cas rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly at Dean and got back to his story. "Instead of leaving the kitchen after breakfast, for some reason I walked up to you by the sink. I took you by the shoulders, looked into your eyes, and told you I loved you and wanted to be with you. I didn't even give you a chance to reply before... assaulting you physically in a manner consistent with the creature from the movie we watched later that night."

"You mean Alien?" Dean had to laugh a little at that. "Dude, you woke up screaming from kissing me?"

"No, Dean," Cas said. "I woke up screaming when you pushed me away. I think if I'd remained in the dream, you would've kicked me out, or been disgusted with me, or," he shuddered, "I don't want to know what you would've done. So screaming seemed like a reasonable alternative at the time."

Dean held him tighter until Cas relaxed into him again. "Not gonna happen, Cas. You're right. I think that particular dream's resolved itself."

"Mmmhmm."

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas's forehead as they both drifted off to sleep.

 

 

The next time Cas awoke, it was completely dark but for the dim blue glow of the clock on the nightstand behind him. It was the first time he'd awakened actually feeling rested and refreshed. Even the last time he was human, he'd never slept that well. He'd either been too physically uncomfortable or too worried for his own safety, or Dean's, or Sam's, or his fallen brothers and sisters. It didn't make for restful slumber.

As he lay there trying to make out Dean's sleeping features in the half-light, listening to the steady sounds of his breathing, he understood. This was happiness. Not duty, nor obligation, nor anything else.

He remembered praying to God once, years ago now, wondering if he'd made the right choices and terrified that he hadn't. Still, all the times he'd done the wrong thing, even the times he'd nearly broken the whole world, all of those choices led him here, to this moment. He was content, wrapped around Dean as he slept, warm and safe and _happy_.

It wasn't even a conscious decision. His body simply wasn't used to feeling so full and light and so entirely, humanly _real_ to him, and it just reacted. He kissed the closest part of Dean he could find with his lips, which happened to be where his shoulder sloped up toward his neck. Once he started, he couldn't think of a reasonable argument for stopping.

By the time he'd worked his way up to Dean's jaw, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, Dean was blinking awake, sighing happily. He turned his head to meet Cas's mouth with his own. They exchanged slow, easy kisses for a few minutes, until Dean seemed to remember where they were. When he broke the kiss and sat up to peer at the clock over Cas's shoulder, Cas groaned impatiently and tried to follow him with his lips.

Dean huffed out an amused breath. "All right, Casanova. Plenty of time for that later, but it's after eight o'clock, and if we want dinner we should probably find a place soon. Little town like this, I don't know if they got an all-night diner."

Cas groaned and flopped back down on the pillow. "I'm not even that hungry."

Dean leaned over and kissed him one more time before sitting up and groping around to turn on the lamp. They both winced in the sudden brightness of a single 15-watt bulb. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Dean bent over at the foot of the bed, collecting their scattered clothing.

"Yeah, you say that now, but you're gonna need your energy later." Dean winked at him, and then tossed him his jeans.

His phone slid out of the pocket and landed in his lap. "Why don't we have something delivered to the room?"

"What, you ashamed to be seen with me in public already?"

"No, but if we stay here, we won't need to get dressed."

Dean stopped, bent half way over to pick up a sock, and slowly turned to look at Cas, as if reevaluating everything he'd ever believed about his former angel. "I can't argue with that kind of common sense, Cas." He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. "But there's actually a few things I thought we might want to pick up while we're out. You know, since we're..." Dean gestured back and forth between them, and Cas suddenly thought he understood.

"You're referring to condoms?"

"Well, yeah, among other things."

"Do you feel we need them?"

"If you don't wanna go there, then probably not. It's just, I thought it would be best to be prepared, in case you did."

"I was given to understand that condoms were for preventing pregnancy and the transmission of diseases. Neither of us has to worry about either of those things. I was an angel until a few weeks ago, and then you housed my grace long enough to purify your body of any illness you might've had. And I will happily go anywhere you wish to take me, Dean."

Dean walked over to sit on the edge of the bed by Cas, a bundle of rumpled clothes tucked under his arm. "If you're okay with that, than I guess I am, too, but condom or not, we're definitely not going there without lube, man. Trust me on this one."

Cas studied him for a second, and then nodded. "I trust you, Dean."

"Good. Then get dressed. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can come back."

Cas complied. He was dressed and ready to go before Dean, partly because Dean had to dig a clean shirt out of his duffel, and partly because he'd also stopped to check his phone messages.

"Hey, Cas, c'mere a sec." Dean set the phone down on the table while he put his jacket on. "Take a look at that."

Dean's phone had several new messages, all from Sam.

>> _I'm back from the store. Tell Cas they were sold out of the coffee he likes, so I got the regular French roast. I hope that's okay. Have a nice trip._

Then a few hours later,

>> _You there yet? Just checking in._

Then an hour after that,

_> >I may have found us a case, but I'm not 100%. I'll get back to you. You both relax, have fuuuuuuun._

 Dean leaned over his shoulder as he scrolled to the final message, and said, "You think we should mess with him?"

"It's not his fault they were out of my favorite coffee, Dean. And I've been told he can safely blame the unnecessary u's in 'fun' on autocorrect."

"Pffft, not for that. He's making fun of us, man! He doesn't even realize how not funny he is. I think we need to show him."

Dean snatched the phone back from Cas and started typing.

<< _We're here. Had so much fuuuuuuuuun we needed a naaaaaaaaap._

Dean chuckled, and showed the text to Cas.

"I don't understand, are you antagonizing him over his misspelling?"

Dean's smirk faltered a bit. "I guess your pop culture memory dump didn't include sarcastic text messages."

Cas just started at him, waiting for an explanation.

"The whiny voice is implied." Dean said, waiting for him to catch on. They stood there and stared at each other for a few seconds, before Cas gave up and asked his own question.

"Are you going to say anything to Sam about us?"

"I just sort of did, which was the whole point of the sarcasm."

Cas stared back and squinted at him, as if he could concentrate just a little harder and pick the missing bits of data directly from Dean's brain without having to sort through the less-than-helpful answers he was getting.

Dean suddenly realized he hadn't told Cas about his chat with Sam that morning. "He already figured it out before we did. S'why he stayed home. Thought maybe if we were left alone together for a while, we'd come to our senses, or whatever."

Dean saw it the second Cas put the whole puzzle together. "Ooohhh."

"Yeah."

Dean's phone buzzed again.

>> _Don't be gross, Dean_

_< <you asked, I answered_

_> >I'll stop asking then. And congrats I guess._

_> >The hunt can wait. It's starting to look like a werewolf thing, and it's 3 weeks until the full moon, so enjoy your vacation_

_< <thanks, we will_

 

 

Dean felt lighter and more relaxed than he had in years. Hell, maybe in his entire life. Sam was safe. Cas was safe. Sam and Cas were both happy. He and Cas were firmly on the same page as far as how they felt about each other. He was happy. It was so fucking surreal. He had to keep looking over at Cas to remind himself that this was actually his life now.

It got so bad, the third time Dean found himself sitting at a green light just staring over at him, Cas offered to drive. Dean laughed, reached over to take his hand, and kept going.

They found an open pharmacy while cruising around looking for a good place to pick up dinner, and he dragged Cas inside to help pick out what they needed.

"We should stock up on a few things while we're here," Dean said, putting several bottles of water and orange juice into a shopping basket. He winked at Cas, and then headed toward the snack aisle. "Never know when we might get thirsty. Or hungry."

He threw a bag of popcorn in with the drinks, and then let Cas pick out whatever kind of candy he wanted. He tossed a pack of gummy bears into the basket and shrugged.

"They look fun, Dean."

Dean grinned at him, and dragged him off to find what they'd primarily come in for. Cas read the labels on every variety of lube they had, shamelessly evaluating the merits of each package's claims. Dean stood there and tried to participate in Cas's scientific study, but after a minute or two he just grabbed whatever Cas had in his hand at the moment and made for the checkout.

Cas started to comment on the choice, but Dean shot him a look that screamed " _we can talk about it in the car let's just get out of here_." And thankfully Cas understood. He didn't think they needed to debate the relative merits of their lube choices in front of the old lady at the cash register.

A quick tour of the town, while Dean finally settled Cas's concerns over the lube, led them to a burger joint a few blocks from their motel. They swung through the drive through and were back in their room before the fries even started to cool.

They sat at the little table in their room, plastic flowers pushed to the side, and ate. Cas seemed happy to have a good cheeseburger in front of him, and Dean was happy enough to watch him enjoy it. When they were done and had cleaned up their trash, Dean caught Cas stifling a yawn.

"Aw, still haven't caught up on your sleep yet," he said, walking back from the trash can to where Cas sat.

"I suppose not," he replied, standing up and stretching.

Dean fixated on the strip of skin revealed below the hem of Cas's shirt and unconsciously licked his lips as Cas lowered his arms again. "Well, we should probably shower before bed."

Cas nodded. "Would you like to go first?"

"I think we'll both fit, you know, if you want to."

A look of surprise flashed across Cas's face, quickly replaced with one of pleasure. He took a step closer to Dean and said, "I promise not to have another Janet Leigh moment."

Dean stepped right up into Cas's space, slid his arms around his waist, and his grin turned positively predatory. "What, you don't think I can make you scream?"

Before Cas could answer, Dean leaned in and kissed him. His fingers teased lower over Cas's hips and found the hems of his shirts. They reluctantly pulled apart while Dean tugged the shirts over Cas's head and threw them in the general direction of his duffel before crashing back together again. They fumbled their way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of shoes and clothes wrestled off each other while trying to keep as much of their bodies pressed together as was humanly possible.

By the time Dean reached in to turn the shower on, neither of them had a thought to spare for getting clean. There was nothing but the slick of wet lips and tongues, the frenzy of exploring hands, and the press of hardening erections. When it was warm enough, Dean all but lifted Cas into the shower, savoring the slide of their skin under the running water.

He walked Cas back against the wall, holding him in place against the cool tile. Cas hissed a breath at the sudden shock, but didn't try to move away. Dean rewarded him by running his shower-warm arms between the cool wall and his back and slowly working his way down Cas's neck and chest with his mouth.

He took a little more time with his exploration than he had earlier, now that everything was clear and understood between them. He wasn't afraid Cas was going to leave him again, so he had absolutely no reason to hold anything back. He could pay attention to each inch of skin, because Cas was his now. His in the same way that Dean, in his most closely guarded prayers, had admitted belonging to Cas.

That thought alone almost drove him over the edge. Cas had probably always known that Dean thought of him as _his angel_ , and he'd never once tried to convince Dean otherwise. Dean wondered if Cas had ever thought of him as _his human_ , and almost lost it again, grinding his hips against Cas's while sucking a glorious bruise into his collarbone, to claim him with a mark as clear as the handprint on his shoulder.   _Mine_.

He kissed his way down Cas's chest, while Cas stood dazed above him, running fingers through his hair and making little sounds of pleasure and encouragement when Dean found a particularly sensitive spot. He flicked the tip of his tongue against a nipple, and Cas writhed beneath his hands, clutching Dean closer and tugging at his hair.

Dean continued his descent, licking along ribs, suckling at hipbones, and palming down over the backs of his thighs to hold him steady as he sank to his knees. He looked up through the water splashing down into his face and met Cas's eyes, seeking permission, and licked his lips. He could do this. He really wanted to do this. Cas gazed back, a mix of serenity, bliss, and intrigue, impatiently waiting to see what Dean would do next.

He kept his eyes on Cas, watching every reaction spread across his face as he dove in and licked the tip of his cock. Dean felt him shudder against his hands, saw his eyes close, and then slowly sucked the head into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around once, twice, and then swallowed him down as far as he could.

Cas's hands tightened in his hair, but mercifully didn't pull his head forward. It was more Cas holding on for dear life, rather than demanding anything more. He groaned as he slowly slid his tongue and lips back toward the head, sucking gently as he went. Cas moaned out, "Dean," and he suddenly had to know exactly what it would take to make Cas scream.

Dean tried to emulate everything he'd ever loved about getting a blowjob, sucking harder and faster, before pulling back to explore with his tongue, listening for the little gasps and moans Cas made each time he tried something new. The glances he stole up at Cas falling apart above him only spurred him on.

He slid his hands around, gripping the base of Cas's cock with one and letting the other stroke gently up his inner thigh. He tugged gently at his balls, reaching further back as he increased his pace with his mouth. Cas whimpered as he teased at his hole with the tip of a finger, and Dean had to brace his forearm against Cas's hip to keep him from thrusting all the way down his throat. One insistent press of a knuckle into his perineum, and Dean got his scream.

There was no more warning than that before Cas was coming down his throat. He did his best to swallow everything Cas gave him, stroking him through his climax and licking him clean. Cas still stood, back braced against the wall as if he'd puddle to the ground if he tried to move, so Dean held him steady as he got to his feet.

Cas grinned at him lazily, like a satisfied cat, so Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And that's how you do a shower scene, Marion," he said, and reached for the shampoo.

Dean had lathered up Cas's hair and was turning him around to rinse out the suds before Cas realized Dean hadn't come yet. He stood under the water, watching Dean squeeze his eyes shut against the soap bubbles as he washed his own hair. Dean nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected touch of Cas's fingers brushing along the length of his straining erection.

"But what about you?"

If Dean wasn't mistaken, Cas sounded almost disappointed that Dean hadn't experienced the same pleasure he'd just received. "I'm sure we'll think of something," he said, nudging Cas aside so he could rinse off.

He rubbed the sting out of his eyes and focused on Cas, who was tentatively holding the bar of soap out towards him. "May I?"

"Be my guest." Dean smiled, thinking he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Turn around, please," Cas asked, gently nudging at his shoulder with one soapy hand. Dean obliged, and was treated to five minutes of pure heaven as Cas explored every inch of his body with soapy fingertips. He felt worshipped and adored, and so painfully turned on he was about to scream himself. Cas worked his way down from his shoulders to his feet, gently soothing every taut muscle in between, with the exception of his now painfully hard erection.

"Cas, man, as good as that feels, I think I might actually die if you don't touch me soon."

"I am almost certain you won't die, Dean. And I have been touching you this entire time." He squeezed Dean's hip with one hand as he stood again, rubbing his body against the soapsuds dripping down Dean's chest and stomach.

Dean made a sound at that back of his throat that rose unbidden past his lips at the slippery slide of skin against his neglected cock. Cas simply turned around and finished washing himself quickly before rinsing them both and shutting off the cooling water.

Dean groaned and slotted himself against Cas's back, seeking friction wherever he could. He found himself aligned between the cheeks of Cas's ass, and gripped him tighter as he thrust his hips slowly against him.

"Is this the part where it gets better with the lubricant, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice clipped and breathy.

Dean froze. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. He'd been swept under by the powerful skin hunger Cas brought out in him now. His only rational thought was of pressing himself as close to Cas as he could get.

"Is that... " He stopped to clear his throat and peel himself away from Cas's back. It wasn't the kind of decision he wanted to influence with his own neediness. He didn't want Cas to feel pressured into something he wasn't ready for. "Is that something you want? Now? There's no rush, Cas."

Cas turned, reclaimed the step Dean had put between them and kissed him lazily, one hand absently stroking his hip. "Isn't that why we bothered getting dressed to go out? So we could do this?" He reached down and squeezed the base of his shaft, slowly drawing his hand down its length. Dean valiantly fought off the aneurysm he was sure he was about to have because _Cas was being a fucking tease, what the hell?_

Dean forced himself to focus and not rut mindlessly into Cas's willing hand, desperately pulling his thoughts together before they scattered again. "Honestly? I pictured this going the other way the first time."

Cas's eyes flew wide open, regarding Dean with genuine surprise. "You wanted me inside you?"

Dean shuffled his feet, but forced himself to hold Cas's gaze. "Well, yeah. I figured you'd already run the angel part of you through me, so. Yeah." He shrugged. To be fair, it made more sense in his own head. As far as he was concerned, Cas had already been inside him in every other possible way. This was the logical next step.

Cas narrowed his eyes and studied him. "I've already been inside of you quite recently, Dean. I haven't held you inside me since I first carried your soul out of Hell. I believe I've been waiting longer."

Dean couldn't help it. He laughed. "If that's really how you feel about it, then yes. Let's do this."

 

They dried off quickly, and Cas got comfortable in bed while Dean fiddled with the packaging on the lube. He got it open and set it down on the edge of the mattress before climbing up over Cas, nearly the same way he had hours before.

He settled between Cas's spread legs and stretched up to kiss him. "If it's too much, or if I do something you don't like, tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

"Of course, Dean." Cas leaned up to close the inch Dean had put between them and kissed him again.

Dean finally pulled away, breathless and fully hard again. He reached for the lube, spreading some of the cold liquid on his fingers and letting it warm up in his hand while he lifted Cas's knee to give himself better access.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Dean."

He started off slowly, watching Cas carefully for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. One fingertip gently circling the puckered flesh, pressing ever more insistently against the loosening muscle beneath, until he dared to press in further.

The first finger went in easily, Cas still relaxed from his orgasm in the shower. He still made a strange strangled protest against the intrusion.

Dean's hand froze. "Does that hurt?"

"No. It feels odd, but not painful."

Dean took him at his word, and pushed in farther. When Cas made no other protest, and he started to feel more confident and relaxed himself, he perched himself over Cas's thigh so he could stretch up and kiss him while he worked him open. Their gentle kisses quickly turned heated, Cas pulling at his hair again to control the depth and angle of the kiss. Either Cas had some sort of hair fetish or he just knew Dean liked it. Either way, it worked for Dean, and before he knew it he had three fingers pumping into Cas, his hips pushing back to meet each thrust.

He tried one last thing before pulling out of the kiss. He twisted his hand around and grazed his fingers across Cas's prostate, and just like in the shower, Cas's entire body reacted and he wailed into Dean's mouth. Dean inched back far enough to watch Cas's face, and then did it again.

"Dean, please," he cried out, thrusting himself down again onto Dean's hand.

He realized that, despite having come in the shower, Cas was already getting hard again, arching off the bed, torn between thrusting up against his hip or down onto his fingers. Dean pressed one more hard kiss to his lips, and withdrew his hand to reach for the lube again, ignoring Cas's protests at the momentary loss.

He slicked himself up, and positioned himself at Cas's entrance. "I'll go slow. You tell me if you need me to stop."

Cas nodded, biting his lip, and raised his hips to goad Dean into action.

He pressed forward, trembling a little under the strain of holding back from thrusting his long-neglected cock home in a single stroke. The tip breached the outer ring of muscle, and he felt Cas tense a little and clench down at the sudden intrusion.

"Relax, babe, I got you."

"Babe?"

He didn't even realize what he'd said, but Cas did. He shrugged one shoulder, and pushed in a little more as Cas smiled and relaxed under him once again. He worked himself deeper, never taking his eyes from Cas, until he was all the way in. He gave Cas a minute to adjust to the fullness, before slowly drawing himself back out an inch, and sliding back home.

He tried to take it slow, but it just felt too good, too hot and too tight. And this was Cas, writhing beneath him in pleasure, grasping and clawing at his skin as he fucked into him. His angel was coming apart in his hands and around him. He needed to see Cas come again, to feel it while he thrust inside him.

Dean sat back on his heels and dragged Cas along with him, lifting his hips off the mattress until he found the perfect angle that had him shaking and crying out.

"That's it, babe. Are you going to come for me again?"

Cas looked wild, hands reaching for any part of Dean he could grab on to. He caught hold of Dean's arm and pulled himself up to straddle his lap. He fucked himself down onto Dean's cock as his own rubbed against Dean's belly, slicked along with their sweat. Dean held on now, wrapping his arms around Cas to hold him up.

"Cas, I can't...I'm..."

Cas slammed himself down one last time and he couldn't breathe. The release tore through them both, as they clung to each other in the absence of sight or gravity or air or any other goddamn thing in the universe.

Dean gradually came back to his senses and found himself lying face down on top of Cas, still wrapped around him. He tried to lever himself up off of Cas, but the arms around him clenched tighter.

"Not yet."

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, Dean. Everything is far better than okay. I don't want to let go yet."

Dean settled back down, kissing along Cas's shoulder where he found himself trapped. "This is gonna get uncomfortable here in a second, babe," Dean warned him.

"You keep calling me babe."

It wasn't a question, but Dean felt it deserved an answer anyway. "Yeah, because that's the sort of thing you call the person you love, Cas."

He held on for another few seconds, and then slowly released his grip on Dean. "I love you too, Dean. But do I have to call you babe, too?"

Dean kissed him once more before finally pulling the rest of the way out and flopping over onto the bed beside him. "Nah. I like the way you say my name, Cas. You call me whatever you want."

When he felt he could safely make it all the way to the bathroom without staggering, he got up to brush his teeth and clean himself off. He brought back a washcloth, and did the same for Cas, who'd nearly fallen back asleep. He tossed the cloth off the bed, and reached over to switch off the light.

"I'm glad you asked me to do something fun this morning, Dean. This far exceeded my original expectations for our trip."

Dean was too stunned to answer right away. Twelve hours ago they'd been sitting in the library debating the various merits of visiting a giant ball of twine and the reliability of yelp reviews. Now they were suddenly here, in a blissed-out post-orgasmic haze after a day filled with love confessions and other generalized happiness. And somehow, miraculously, Dean accepted all of it on the first try, without even a token protest about being unworthy or worthless or not good enough.

"Yeah, Cas. I'm glad too."

He slid down under the covers, and curled himself around Cas, content and happy and warm.

 

 

Cas awoke just before dawn. It felt far too early to move from his warm nest of blankets and Dean, so he lay there in the dark and enjoyed it. Once again, he felt well rested. He imagined it was probably due to exhaustion finally overtaking him and demanding a decent night's sleep from his body, but he credited it entirely to the man breathing softly against his neck.

Dean had given him everything he'd ever wanted. He hadn't spent much of his existence actually wanting anything at all, but in the last few years he'd composed a thorough and detailed wish list. It wasn't a long list, by any stretch of the imagination, but it had grown some since his final fall into humanity.

Some of his wishes would more accurately be listed as needs rather than wants, but it all amounted to the same thing now. He needed Dean as much as he needed a home or a purpose or food and water. As far as he was concerned, Dean _was_ his home. Everything else was a bonus.

He felt Dean rouse, breaking into his reverie with a nuzzle against his neck. "Good morning, Dean."

Cas felt Dean smile against his skin. "Yeah it is. Been up long?"

"Not really." It was true enough. He hadn't been watching the clock, but the room hadn't brightened appreciably with the sunrise yet.

"No nightmares, then?"

"None. I think you managed to scare them away."

"Heh. I can be pretty terrifying." Dean squirmed against him like a sleepy kitten slowly stretching awake.

Cas turned to plant a kiss on his head. "Of course, Dean."

"This is nice, waking up like this. No monster to chase, no research to do, no dusty-ass storage rooms to organize. Hell, I don't even have to make breakfast or wash dishes after."

"I thought you enjoyed your kitchen."

Dean shrugged. "I do, but I could get used to this whole vacation concept. We should do it more often."

Cas laughed. "More often than once every thirty five years? I think that can be arranged."

"Hey, me and Sammy have our annual Vegas pilgrimage. That sort of counts as a vacation."

"Even though you spent most of your time there earning money by gambling?"

"Gambling can be fun, if you know what you're doing, Mr. Riverboat Nickel Slot Machine."

Cas rolled his eyes and tried to sit up, but Dean held him down.

"Not yet."

Cas complied, letting Dean keep him cocooned a little longer. Snuggled up warm and comfortable, his thoughts drifted back to his wants and needs again, and to their inevitable return to the bunker. He suddenly felt uneasy, and needed to make sure he wasn't presuming too much about what the last twenty four hours had meant.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"We're returning home this afternoon, correct?"

"That's the plan. Why? You want to stay another night? Because this has been fun and all, but I do sorta miss my bed." He wiggled his hips and the old motel mattress creaked obligingly, setting Cas bouncing in the aftershocks. "This ain't memory foam."

Of course they would share the bed when there was only one bed to be had. Back at the bunker they each had a room of their own. And their own beds. "Ah, I see. Yes, I can imagine you would."

"Hey." Dean propped himself up on an elbow and kept Cas from turning away, fingers against his cheek holding him in place. "Last time you disappeared and weren't answering my prayers, I always kept an extra pillow on my bed. I don't know, but I guess I was sorta hoping you'd show up, and the damn pillow let me keep hoping. I don't think I ever let myself think it through in so many words, but man, that's what it was.

"It's your pillow, Cas."

"Mine?"

"Whole side of the bed, really."

He lay there stunned, first at the reminder of all the times he'd ignored Dean's prayers, whether for Dean's own protection or because he simply couldn't answer him. Purgatory sprang quickly to mind, and so did the awful months he'd spent unwittingly following Naomi's orders. Second, he realized Dean had always wanted him there, even if he'd never fully voiced his desire to himself, let alone to Cas. He'd wanted it so much he'd unconsciously carved out a space for him to fill.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean grinned at him, and Cas knew they'd understood one another. Offer made and accepted without ever addressing the subject directly. He idly wondered if it could be considered an inside joke, the way they understood one another so readily.

"You're gonna love the memory foam. We need to give it something worth remembering." Dean waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, but his eyes were soft and sparkled with contentment. He planted a good morning kiss on Cas's lips, and then finally sat up and released him.

Cas glanced at the clock as he got up. They still had several hours before their tour at the salt museum. Dean fetched the juice bottles out of the tiny fridge and handed one to him as he dug a fresh set of clothes out of his bag. He drank it while he dressed, and found it especially sweet and refreshing. Everything really was better without knowing what each individual molecule tasted like.

Dean was already dressed and gathering up their scattered clothes from last night by the time he'd savored the last sip of juice. Together they located and packed up everything they'd brought with them. Cas stashed the lube in his suitcase before Dean could pick it up.

"Hold on to that," Dean said, the playful and teasing smirk back in place. "You're gonna need it later."

 

They took their time packing up the Impala, stuffing their duffel bags into the trunk this time, and then checking out of their room. The lady who now occupied the front desk gave them directions to a "really good diner," for breakfast, and they were on their way once more.

Cas didn't know what made this particular diner any different than any of the thousands of others Dean had eaten in, but the pancakes were delicious nonetheless. There were only a few other customers when they'd arrived, and the waitress, Junie, seemed to know them all. She spared a few words for each of the solitary diners hurrying through breakfast at her other tables, but the efficient little brunette seemed overly enthused to see some new faces in her restaurant that morning. She spent more time than Cas felt was strictly necessary making sure their coffee was refreshed, that they didn't need anything else, and that their food was enjoyable.

It seemed like every time he and Dean began to talk to one another, she was back. She asked them if they were new in town, and tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible. Dean didn't seem to mind answering her, but her constant attention was becoming irritating. By the fourth or fifth interruption, Cas was feeling quite put out with her.

Dean noticed the growing storminess around Cas and stretched out a foot to graze against his calf. It startled him out of his present occupation of viciously stabbing at the bits of remaining pancake on his plate. Dean grinned at him, and he felt a little ridiculous for worrying that Dean's easy smiles and flirtatious chatting meant anything.

"You done torturing those pancakes, Cas? What did they ever do to you, huh?"

He narrowed his eyes at Dean, more out of long habit than any actual anger. "I'm primarily upset that, if I am permitted to finish this sentence, this will be the longest conversation we've had since sitting down at this booth."

Dean snorted, then shoved his empty plate to the side and leaned across the table. "I'm sorry, babe, but old habits die hard. It's easier to keep the locals happy on hunts, and I sort of make small talk on reflex now. I wasn't trying to ignore you." He'd started to stretch one hand across the table, but hesitated halfway across, as he finally realized how Cas must've felt the whole time he'd been flirting with the waitress.

Cas watched his expression go from the confident smirk he typically wore in these situations to a slightly withdrawn sadness. Dean's foot had dropped away from his leg and he wouldn't meet Cas's eyes anymore, and Cas couldn't stand that his insecurities had brought out Dean's. He nudged his own foot back against Dean's until Dean looked at him properly again.

"I didn't think you were ignoring me, Dean. I'm not angry with you. You are just a good person, and you’re happiest when you can make other people happy. You brightened her morning, and I'm sorry I reacted selfishly." He shifted a little in his seat and rested his hands on the table in front of him. "I wondered if maybe you were having second thoughts about everything, but I know that's not true, and I was angry with myself for even thinking it. This is who you are, and it’s one of the many reasons that I love you."

"Cas, you... you can't just say stuff like that."

Cas shrugged. "I don't see why not. It's true."

"But here..." Dean leaned closer again, and finally reached far enough to grab on to the back of Cas's clasped hands. His cheeks were turning a lovely shade of pink as he grasped around for an argument to defend his assertion. They stared at each other, Cas smiling placidly while he secretly enjoyed watching a series of unvoiced denials and excuses flash across Dean's expressive face. In the end, Dean failed to come up with anything more defensible than _I am uncomfortable when you say nice things about me_ , and that was equally uncomfortable to admit out loud, so he settled on, "Just don't."

Cas cocked his head to the side, unwilling to let Dean off that easily. "Don't what here?"

Right then, Junie returned to their table, and this time it was Dean who groaned quietly and struggled to paste on a smile for her. "Can I get you boys anything else?"

"Just the check, please," Cas replied, while Dean shifted uncomfortably, but didn't let go of his hands.

The woman's entire demeanor changed when she realized she'd interrupted something. Her eyes went round for a split second, and then she smiled fondly at Cas. "Sure thing, sugar."

He gave Dean's fingers a gentle tug to get his attention again. "You see?" he said, nodding briefly at the retreating waitress, "You made her day more pleasant simply by being yourself. It would be incredibly childish of me to be upset about that."

"Yeah, okay." Dean looked happier again, but the pink hadn't entirely left his cheeks. Cas decided he looked adorable this way. "Next time I'll do better at including you in the conversation, though. I can be an ass, if you hadn't noticed yet. You have permission to point it out when you see it."

Cas felt a wicked grin spread across his face. "You are giving me permission to point out your ass every time I see it?"

"What? No, not like that!" The fading blush returned with a fury. "And not here! Damn, Cas, you got a mouth on you now."

Dean hastily left enough money to cover their breakfast, plus a generous tip, and stood up to leave before they'd even received the check. He grabbed Cas by the hand and dragged him out to the car, muttering under his breath about dirty-minded angels and not being able to take Cas anywhere in public until he learned a little self-restraint. Cas laughed the whole way.

 

 

Dean pulled into the parking lot at the museum about a half an hour before their tour was due to start. Cas had directed him by the little map on his phone again, but Dean's confidence they were going in the right direction waned as they neared the outskirts of town. The museum building itself didn't look like much, and he wasn't feeling terribly enthusiastic about having driven for three hours just to see this place, not to mention what he spent on the tickets. Then again, things had worked out better than he'd ever imagined with Cas, so he could hardly complain if the original reason for their impromptu vacation turned out to be a dud.

"You sure this is right?"

Cas squinted out at the sign on the front of the small building, then back down at his phone. "Yes, Dean. I’m sure."

"I thought this was supposed to be a museum or something?"

"It is. The exhibits are underground, in the mine. This is just the... reception area, I suppose."

"Oh. Okay, then."

Cas smiled slyly at him as he tucked his phone away. "You will have fun, I promise. Remember, guaranteed demon-free zone."

Dean grinned. "Heh, yeah. Couldn't really have a higher endorsement than that." He leaned over and gave Cas a quick kiss, just because he could, and then got out of the car to wander around until it was their turn to descend into the mines.

He collected their tour tickets and they spent a few minutes getting a safety lecture about what to expect in the mine. Dean found it unsettling that they were required to not only wear a hardhat at all times, but also a harness with a can of emergency breathable air in case they were trapped by a collapsing tunnel. Cas eventually got him calmed down enough to put on the ominous safety gear and line up with the handful of others in their tour group.

The frankly terrifying safety briefing that normally would've ended with him walking right back out to the parking lot to wait in the car, instead mystifyingly ended with Dean and Cas and half a dozen other lunatics riding a huge clunky elevator down more than six hundred feet beneath the prairie above. It was all down to Cas's unique brand of encouragement that he didn't try to crawl back up the elevator shaft by his fingernails every time the old beast creaked, groaned, or rattled.

"Don't worry, Dean. Remember, no demons," was a common refrain, but it had lost most of its effectiveness before they even shut the elevator doors. He suddenly realized he was being dropped into a dark labyrinth of tunnels and weird noises. It was more than enough to bring back a few unwelcome flashbacks to his time in Hell. Cas had been studying him for years, and thankfully knew how to keep him distracted. "Remember the first time you summoned me to that barn?"

"What?" Dean was expecting another round of _no ghosts either, Dean, don't forget about that, too_ , but Cas’s question came from far enough out of left field to finally stop him from focusing on the uncomfortable elevator ride and the dubious safety gear and the potential irony of a hunter being killed by _fucking salt_ of all things.

Cas kept right on talking quietly in his ear, unheard over the chatter of the other visitors and the rattle and hum of the elevator. "You and Bobby painted every warding sigil you could find, laid every trap possible, were armed with every weapon you had, correct?"

Dean nodded dumbly as he watched the earth swim steadily upward as they descended.

"You didn't know what to expect when you summoned me, but you didn't know you would end up with this." He waved a hand down the length of his torso, and grinned. "You were ready for the worst possible scenario, and I think you'll agree that things eventually did turn out fine. Well, for the most part."

Dean felt his breathing ease. He wasn't sure if it was Cas's words, or the way he said them, low and rumbling, breath ghosting across his cheek. Maybe it was just him standing close enough to feel the warmth of his skin through their clothes as the ambient temperature dropped the further underground they went.

"You didn't need any of those precautions, yet you had them ready because you were required to be prepared for anything to walk through those doors. This," he said, tugging on the strap holding Dean's emergency supply of air, "is the same thing."

"You're right, Cas," Dean said, tilting his head just enough to brush his forehead against Cas’s. "I'll be better once we get out of this death trap and back on solid ground." In the privacy of his own head, he added, _and when it doesn't look exactly like Hell when we get there. Please don't fucking look exactly like Hell._

As the elevator creaked the last few feet of their journey, Cas gave him one last encouragement. "If you'd like, I can create a distraction while you stab the mine. It seemed to make you feel better back in that barn, at least for a second or two."

"Hah! You don't even know how relieved I am you were all graced up back then. Shit, man, did I ever say I was sorry about that?"

"I don't believe you ever said it out loud, but I knew."

The doors opened and they found themselves in a cavernous tunnel entirely made of salt. _Praise whoever the fuck is in charge of Heaven now that it's just a boring-ass tunnel, amen._

The first thing Dean realized, after being grateful he hadn't been returned to Perdition via elevator, was the smell. Or the entire lack of smells. The air was cool and still and exceptionally arid, and he was half expecting to smell sulfur, but nope. Nothing.

There was hardly any sound, aside from their tour guide directing them all to a little tram for the first part of their tour and the shuffling of feet and murmuring of guests as they complied. He tugged Cas to the last row of seats while the rest of their group huddled near the front by their guide. He threw an arm around Cas's shoulders and pulled him close.

The electric tram took off in near silence and then slowed to a crawl as they crept through darkened tunnels, barely able to see anything. Dean took advantage of their time in the unlit tunnels between each of their stops to be lectured about more of the scary shit, like the challenges of not dying while working in a salt mine, that he'd been trying to block out. Cas took pity on him and did his best to keep Dean consoled.

After one stop where the guide taught them about air flow, Cas ensured him, "See, Dean, there is plenty of ventilation down here with those huge fans!"

Dean thanked him for understanding with a quick kiss. The stops dealing with mine collapses and the storage of nuclear waste required slightly more in depth conciliatory measures. Cas eventually stopped even trying to talk Dean out of his nerves and went straight to making out. It was an effective technique, Dean had to admit when they arrived at their final stop.

They were allowed to get out of the tram and explore a cavern for a few minutes to collect a small rock of salt to take home with them. Cas looked around at the chunks scattered across the ground for a minute or two, as if waiting for one of them to jump up and speak to him like a dog at the pound. Dean watched him, intending to grab the first rock that came to hand, and maybe the second, as well. He had to get a souvenir for Sammy, after all. The least the guy deserved was a nice hunk of salt.

"Looking for something specific there, Cas? I think they're all pretty much the same." He made his way to Cas's side and noticed that Cas was now the one who looked like he needed consoling.

"That's the problem, Dean. They _do_ all look the same to me now."

Oh yeah, because even just a few days ago he might've been able to sense something more. Like maybe if any of the salt nuggets were actually tombs for long-dead relatives of that ancient microscopic creature he'd been so excited to meet. Maybe individual salt molecules looked more pleasing to angels. Now that he was fully human, Cas was seeing exactly what Dean was. Lots and lots of salt. Dean bent and picked up a chunk about the size of his fist.

"Cas, do you know how many times this stuff has saved my life? And Sam's? And a boatload of other humans? It might just look like rocks now, but it's still the same as it ever was. It's still one of the purest things on the planet; so pure it repels evil. So you go ahead and pick the one that feels right to you."

Cas bent down and selected his own rock, slightly rounded with a point on one end. "This one reminds me of a bee I followed once."

Dean grinned. "That's the spirit. That's your salt rock now. Not because it resonates with your mojo or whatever, but because it makes you smile when you remember that bee."

"And being here with you, Dean. Now I will also think of you and smile when I remember the bee."

"Sap. But yeah. I get it. That's what makes stuff important to humans. We hold on to things for weird-ass personal reasons that only make sense to us."

Very quietly, Cas added, "Like you held on to my coat."

Dean focused on the bee-salt-him rock as Cas turned it over in his hands. "Yeah, like that."

They stood there together for a few minutes until their tour guide announced it was time to move on. Dean crouched down and stuffed a smaller rock for Sam into his pocket, and then they climbed back aboard the tram. They were informed that their rocks would quickly crumble to nothing in the regular humid air above ground unless they were sealed with acrylic, so Dean planned to stop at the first hardware store they came across when the left. There was no way in hell he was letting Cas's little bee melt away.

The last stop on their ride was near the gift shop and the rest of the exhibits. They lingered and let the other tourists wander off before choosing their own least crowded route through the displays.

Cas walked him through the Permian room, excitedly describing everything in a detail that the scientists who put the exhibit together would probably trade nonessential body parts to eavesdrop on. Dean spent half the time raptly devouring everything Cas said because it was just that interesting, and the other half feeling awed and maybe a touch alarmed to be standing there talking with a guy who _remembered the Permian period like it was yesterday_. That thought sparked memories of what he and Cas actually did yesterday, and the awe factor shot through the roof.

Without warning, when Cas was halfway through a description of a long-extinct creature called a Pantylus, Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. He tried to push every drop of wonder and love he felt into Cas's mouth with his lips and tongue and teeth. It didn't make sense that this being, this ancient and miraculous creature, chose him, out of every mind-boggling thing he'd seen since the beginning of time. When Cas kissed him back, he didn't care if it made sense. He just knew it was true.

Cas pulled away, breathless and flushed, after a few minutes. "What was that for?"

Dean shrugged. "For you. You remember all this. You remember a hell of a lot more than this, probably. Stuff modern science won't ever know because it's too far in the past for them to dig it out of the earth in one piece, you know? Stuff that happened before there _was_ an Earth for it to happen to. And what, it took five years in my company to make you want to give up your grace, and all of this."

"More like five seconds, but yes, I understand what you mean."

"Dude, you were not ready to rip off your wings five seconds after you met me. That's probably about when I was shooting you full of rock salt."

"No, we were definitely still in Hell."

Dean blinked. "I don't remember that. Oh god, please tell me I didn't say anything humiliating."

Cas laughed. "No, Dean. I only needed to see your soul. I've never really been the same since."

"Why do I feel like I need to apologize for that?"

"You don't. I'm actually relieved I got to you first. The thought of any other angel laying claim to you..." He shuddered and buried his face against Dean's neck. "I'm glad I got to you first. I am glad to be here with you. I don't want to see another five billion years without you."

Dean stroked his back and let Cas cling to him for a minute. He never thought a salt mine would be the thing that brought all this sweetness out in them, but in a weird way, it sort of made sense. Salt was magical stuff.

"Wanna go taunt the second-oldest creature on the planet? Tell him you knew his great-great-great-whatever grandfather and call him Junior to his face?"

"Halophiles don't have faces, Dean. They're single-celled organisms."

"Whatever. Call him pipsqueak. Shake your cane at him and tell him to get off your lawn."

Cas grinned. "Yes, let's."

 

Dean had more fun watching Cas talk to the bacteria than he'd care to admit. He let the two old guys bond for a few minutes, and then they left for the next exhibit. Cas pulled him into a slightly smaller cavern that held a bunch of glass-encased objects. "Now close your eyes Dean."

Dean surprised himself with how readily he did what Cas told him to. In a place that freaked him out as much as the mine had, he still trusted Cas completely. It helped him relax even more as he was pulled along by Cas's warm hand around his wrist.

"Okay, you can open them now."

"It's Batman!" Dean thought he might be hallucinating, because there in front of him was a complete Batman costume, on display like Alfred had set it out for Bruce Wayne in the Batcave. Then he noticed the placard on the exhibit. "Holy shit, it really is Batman!"

Cas turned him around and pointed out the rest of the items in the room. It was full of old movie props and costumes, preserved in the absolutely arid cavern. Cas let him take his time examining everything from the guns from Men in Black to James Dean's shirt.

"Now this is really awesome, Cas. Did you know all this stuff was down here?"

"I might've read an article about it yesterday."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I thought it would make a nice surprise. I would've mentioned it if you hadn't agreed to make the trip anyway, but since you did, I thought it would be more fun not to say anything."

"You were right. Thanks."

Cas looked about as pleased with himself as Dean had ever seen him. "So you're glad I talked you out of waiting in the car?"

"Yeah." Dean felt his cheeks heating a little.

Cas smiled wider, staring at him for a minute before taking his hand and leading him out to the next exhibit.

 

They rode an old mining train through a series of galleries, explored the machinery and debris left behind by the original miners, and visited the gift shop before making their way back up to the surface. It was the exact same rumbling elevator they'd taken down, but for some reason it was a lot less terrifying on the way back up.

Back in the Impala, Dean had Cas find the nearest hardware store on his phone map thingy, and they set off to seal their salt rocks. They stood in the parking lot of the True Value with a can of acrylic sealant spray and a couple of milkshakes Dean picked up at a fast food joint, dutifully waiting the thirty minutes the salesman recommended before trying to move their freshly sealed salt. As soon as they were dry enough, he carefully set the rocks in the trunk between their duffels.

"It's weird. I feel like we went on a hunt and actually came home with more salt than we left with for once."

Cas shrugged and slammed the trunk shut. "Then it was a very good hunt, indeed."

"The best, actually." Dean leaned in and kissed him briefly. "We probably should get back on the road, though. Sammy's got some sort of actual hunt in the works, and if I don't at least look like I'm helping he gets all bitchy and whiny."

"I'll help, too. That should make up for the time we spent away."

"We got him a present. That's good enough."

 

 

They drove straight through to the bunker, with only a quick stop for gas and a light dinner an hour from home. Unsurprisingly, they found Sam sitting at one of the tables in the library working away on his computer. Dean plonked the shellacked bit of salt he'd picked out for Sam on the table next to him.

"Got you a souvenir."

"Hey guys. Have a nice trip?" He looked back and forth between Dean and Cas, studying them for some obvious sign that the nature of their relationship had shifted dramatically. There wasn't a flashing neon light above them screaming it to the world, and Sam realized there didn't have to be. It had been there all along. The two dopes just needed to admit it to each other.

"Yeah it was nice. You'd probably like the salt place. It was sufficiently nerdy for your tastes. And here, got you a shirt, too."

Sam took the shirt Dean tossed at him. It read "Salt of the Earth."

"Thanks, man."

"You should thank Cas for that one. I wanted to get you the one that said 'Where the Sun Really Don't Shine,' but he thought it was rude. So. There you go."

"It was highly inappropriate, Dean."

"Well, thanks for looking out for me, Cas. I'm glad Dean listens to you."

"Yes. He told me to let him know when I caught him being an ass, so I did. I am trying to use my powers for good."

Sam laughed. "Great, Cas. I hope that works out for you. Don't let Dean try and stop you."

"I won't."

Cas glanced over at Dean, and the two of them shifted around a little awkwardly. Sam watched them with increasing interest.

Dean broke the silence. "Yeah, well, long day, you know. I'm gonna go unpack and stuff. Maybe get a shower before bed."

"Bed, Dean? It's like 6:30. Don't you even want dinner?"

Cas answered for Dean. "We ate on the road. And yes, it has been a long day."

"We'll help with the hunt research tomorrow, if that's okay with you, Sammy?"

"I guess..."

"Night then." Dean turned and hauled his bag off toward his room.

"Goodnight, Sam," Cas said, before making a far more polite exit and hurrying down the hall after Dean.

Sam shouted out to their retreating backs, "Night," before overhearing Cas asking Dean if they could start moving his things into Dean's room, or if he wanted to shower first.

The next series of noises he overheard made Sam glad he hadn't left his noise-cancelling headphones back in his room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Pantylus is a real thing. I swear. It even has a wikipedia page. It was a Permian amphibian. And it was pink (at least the drawing on wikipedia looks pink). Whatever. I included the pink Pantylus for your pleasure. I mean, Dean obviously enjoyed the pink Pantylus. (I hope winjennster likes it too) *FINE FINE FINE I'LL SHUT UP ABOUT THE PANTYLUS NOW*
> 
> The salt mine museum is called Strataca, and is a real place. I have not been there, but I've read so much about it while researching it for this, I really want to go now. And since I've not actually been there, I apologize if I mischaracterized it in any way. Feel free to correct me if I was wrong about any of it. Because seriously, the place sounds fascinating. I went on to my husband for like 20 minutes about why we have to make the 18 hour drive to Kansas to go to this stupid salt mine. I think I made a convincing argument.
> 
> This started off as a maybe 3k foray into the alternate idea I had for my chapter in the Bunker Love Fest fic. It didn't work with the plot of the rest of the story, but I liked the idea of Cas having that weird dream at the beginning and having it set off a series of events that basically resolved everyone's sads and made everyone happy. Plus, hellatus angst, combined with my wish that maybe everyone's eventually gonna get over themselves enough to get to this point, just made me want to write something where everyone goes home happy. I also wanted to write something where there was no big gay freakout (because Dean obviously has learned to accept parts of himself he never thought he'd be allowed to, and he actually HAS learned some of that this season, but I had to extrapolate it out to the obvious conclusion that yes, it's okay to be bisexual, because that is a legitimate thing that exists thankyouverymuch).
> 
> So there you go. Thank you for reading, and thanks to everyone who suffered through my rambling and incoherent tumblr posts about the process of writing this. Y'all are a lovely bunch of coconuts. I hope you enjoyed this, and it didn't raise your blood sugar too much.
> 
> A sequel, and a few other ideas, are in the works. Until then, please find me on Tumblr at mittensmorgul.tumblr.com


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